


Ownership

by LittleBat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, BAMF Women, Daddy Issues, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fight Club - Freeform, Forced Prostitution, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, M/M, Mild Gore, Ownership, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:25:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBat/pseuds/LittleBat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 years ago some type of 'barrier' had been broken, and monsters of all shapes and sizes poured out from underneath Mount Ebbot. Humans, being the terrible creatures that you knew they were, had wasted no time in capturing and enslaving the new people. Compliance collars, horrid mixtures of technology and human magic, were put on the monsters, cutting off their magic and forcing them to obey their 'masters' orders. They were then promptly sold off, becoming pets or slaves to anyone who had the money and inclination. That included you now, apparently.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tagging and stuff is hard on mobile. Just an idea I've had in my head for a bit, decided to write it out. </p><p>I'm pretty bad at keeping my enthusiasm to write without comments, so write me something back!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Annoyance flashed through your body as yet another fully grown man practically jumped out of a window to get out of your way. Sure, you could be scary and kick ass when you wanted to, but at this moment you simply looked like any 16 year old girl. 17 now actually, it was your birthday. How odd to think society would consider you an adult in a year, but you had seen and done more than most adults you'd met. Another man bowed to you slightly as you rounded a corner, getting ever closer to your father's office. Your father insisted on living in this expansive, sprawling estate that had more space than he knew what to do with. He'd told you once, when you were little and innocent enough to ask why, that is was so that any enemies who came after him would have a hard time finding him.

Many people would wonder about why your father worried about enemies coming to kill him, but not you. He was the head of the biggest gang in Ebbot city, ruling the metropolis from the shadows of the underground, King of the criminals. He was ruthless, and controlled everything from the smaller off-shoot gangs to politicians and policemen. All in all, very powerful, and very rich. The word 'mansion' didn't really describe his home, it was more of a castle. There were rooms in it that you knew for a fact no one except you had ever been inside, many of which you had hidden in when your training became too much. Or when you did not want to be around people who were simultaneously afraid of you, for you could easily kill them, wanted to kill you themselves, or idolized and revered you. It was tiring.

And now, freshly home from school and still in your uniform, you stood in front of the door of the most powerful person in the city. You took a second to pick some imaginary lint from your white blouse, flatten the blue plaid skirt which it was tucked into, and straighten the matching scarf around your neck. You needed to look perfect, you had a reputation to keep up. Slipping on your metaphorical mask, you plastered a cheery smile on your face, which was only a little bit forced for you truly did love your father, and pushed open the large wooden doors and entered his domain. 

"Daddy!" You called out as you entered, a slight skip in your step. Maybe you were a bit of a brat with him, but he let you get away with it. You were his princess afterall. The guards that stood in opposite corners stiffened slightly at your entrance, but you paid them no mind. You took a quick second to take in your surroundings, checking for threats. The walls of the massive office were covered in book cases, most filled with books but some had trinkets and art. There were secret doors behind 2 of the shelving units, but they were closed now. The hardwood floor was covered by a thick persian rug, and some decadently comfy black leather arm chairs sat in the middle of the room, facing the desk at the far wall. Sitting at that desk was your father, and he looked up with a smile. 

"Princess! Happy birthday sweetheart." His voice was deep and warm, though you had heard it get cold enough to make men piss themselves. He had a large and imposing stature, only slightly softened by the smile he gave you. Though his job was stressful, he was still young, mid 40's, and the years had been kind to him. Not a single trace of grey in his black hair, and his handsome face was only marred with a single scar on his cheek, no wrinkles. When he stood up and rounded his desk, straightening his suit jacket, he only looked more intimidating, but not to you.

You wasted no time in rushing over to him and flinging yourself into his arms, your soul lifting in joy as he caught you and swung you around. Just like he'd done when you were younger, whenever he was in a good mood. You hadn't got this kind of hug in a while, and your smile became even more genuine while you laughed. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before setting you down. The man was being more open with affection than normal, and you soaked it up. It wasn't like he'd never shown it before, but he was 'emotionally constipated' to put it lightly, and never really knew what to do with you. He had never wanted children, you knew this, and the only reason you existed was because of an accident. Still, he tried his best, and you appreciated it.

"Look how big you've gotten. It seems like just yesterday you were this tall," he motioned to a height of around his knees, though you now were only a head shorter than his 6'10", 

"and now you've become such a lovely young woman." You preened at his praise, which was even rarer than his shows of affection. His eyes flickered to the clock on the desk, and you did your best to not let the pain of that simple action show. There was a meeting, or something he needed to attend to soon, and you would not be getting to eat dinner together like you were supposed to. Mentally you started up a timer in your head, wondering how long you'd have his attention.

"Now, I know we had plans tonight, but business has come up." There it was, the tried and true excuse. "However, I want to give you your gift before I leave. I've been holding on to this for nearly two weeks now, waiting for today." He held his arm out, directing you to one of the bookcases you knew led to a secret room. Internally you groaned, dreading whatever he had picked out. The man had no clue what to get you. Since you ran a part of his empire, you had plenty of money for yourself and wanted very little. In fact, you had more than even he knew thanks to some well bought stocks and savings. For the past 5 years his gifts had mostly been some new, fancy, expensive car, and new, fancy, expensive weapons. This year, to save space in your garage and armoury, you simply asked for a puppy. Maybe you'd be training it to be a guard dog, but you still wanted something normal for once. 

You followed him somewhat reluctantly as he pulled the book that activated the door, and led you into the pitch black room beyond. A small sliver of hope bloomed in your chest as you heard something in the room shuffle, but it left with a quiet huff as the lights were turned on. Standing in the middle of the room, staring at you, was a skeleton. It honestly took you a second to realize that the skeleton was actually a monster. Behind you your dad hummed in approval, but you were left speechless.

3 years ago some type of 'barrier' had been broken, and monsters of all shapes and sizes poured out from underneath Mount Ebbot. Humans, being the terrible creatures that you knew they were, had wasted no time in capturing and enslaving the new people. Compliance collars, horrid mixtures of technology and human magic, were put on the monsters, cutting off their magic and forcing them to obey their 'masters' orders. They were then promptly sold off, becoming pets or slaves to anyone who had the money and inclination. That included you now, apparently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, didn't expect to get so many hits. Here's another chapter! I live off comments, they really do give me the motivation to keep writing. Chapters aren't going to be this frequent, but I think I'll do at least 2 a week. Hopefully. 
> 
> If you notice any typos, or if something doesn't make sense, please tell me! Writing this out on my phone sucks. 
> 
> So you, the reader, are going to be named and have a description. I don't really like having the _______ or y/n in the story, it kinda disrupts the flow to me. Plus I think it's kinda fun pretending to be someone you're not. Input on this topic is welcomed!

You studied the monster before you. They looked to be a few inches shorter than you, their stocky build covered by a plain white tee shirt and some black pants. Their feet were bare, and the metal collar around their neck gleamed in the light. Their hands were fisted at their sides and they stood in a ready position, feet shoulder width apart. As you took all this in, you noticed how their smile never faltered, empty eye sockets stared emotionless at your face. It was eerie, to put it lightly, and you turned to your father in confusion.

"Now, I know you wanted a guard dog, but I've heard that these creatures are much better. It is intelligent, listens to orders, and easy to train and control." He went on, telling you how their collars were voice activated and you could command them to do anything. There were also pre-programed commands you could say, punishments you could give with a single word that would cause excruciating pain, or death. The collar needed to hear its owner's voice once every 24 hours or it would begin rounds of hourly 'punishments' to the wearer. It also restricted their magic, making them unable to use it unless an order was given.

You listened with growing horror, feeling more and more ill as he went on. 'It', your father had said. He'd been holding onto 'it' for 2 weeks. Had they been in this room the whole time, shut away in the darkness? There was no food or supplies in the room, aside from the normal stuff, but when you looked at the skeletons feet you nearly shuddered. The carpet underneath him was flattened down, as if they had been stuck standing in the same position for a long period of time. Your heart thudded erratically yet dully in your throat, and you had to swallow before you could meet your fathers eyes again.

"I love it! What's its name?" Your enthusiastic voice sounded so fake and hollow to your ears, but apparently your father bought it and he beamed at you.

"I just called it 'skeleton', but you can name it whatever you want. Come here and we will change the ownership over to you." He closed the distance between you and the monster, you trailed behind reluctantly. The skeleton stiffened as your father reached out, flipping what appeared to be a small gem on the collar and pricking his finger on the pin underneath, drawing a small drop of blood. 

"Skeleton, owner change. Authorize." He spoke clearly to the collar, and a small light on the collar flashed twice.

The skeleton appeared to go rigid as a robotic voice sounded from the collar. "Authorized. Detainment initiated. Present new owner." Another wave of nausea went through you as you thought of what that meant. The monster was unable to move, held in placed by that damned collar. Your father turned to you and beckoned you forward.

"Place your finger on the pin. The collar uses your blood to sense proximity and ownership, as well as a safety mechanism so that the monster cannot attack you. Then just say whatever you want to name it. The collar will do the rest." He seemed so pleased with himself, seeming to take your speechlessness as a good sign. Bile rose in your throat as you stepped forward, pricking your finger just as your father had done.

"Beinagrind." Your voice was surprisingly stable as you enunciated the foreign word, rolling the r. 'Bay-nuh-grin-d'. The white light flashed on the collar again, three times, and a soft beep sounded. Immediately the skeleton relaxed a bit, no longer forced to hold their position. 

"New owner confirmed. Please read instruction manual for complete control." The robotic voice piped up again, and you barely held back your cringe. You owned a slave now, a monster slave. This seemed to please your father though, as he handed you a small black book.

"These are the instructions for the collar. All the commands you can use are in there. Happy birthday darling." He kissed the top of your head again, but instead of the rush of affection you normally felt all you got this time was revulsion. 

"Now I hate to cut this short, but I really do have to get going. It was nice seeing you again princess." With that he left the room, and you heard him and his guards leave his office as well. It was only you and the skeleton now. You stared at them uneasily for a second before taking a calming breath. You were still in public, you still had a reputation to uphold. 

"Follow me." The order tasted like lead on your tongue, but as you turned and left the room the monster followed behind you. You led the way through the winding corridors silently, ignoring how your fathers men as you passed them. How dare your father give you a sentient being, a person, as a gift! In almost no time you made it to the car waiting for you out front, your driver rushing to open the door for you. 

"Home." You told the chauffeur, a little bit ruder than you normally would have, as you climbed into the back seat, Beinagrind copying you without waiting for your command. 

The ride home was stiff and awkward. You could practically feel the monster's hatred towards to rolling off of them, and you were having trouble holding your own anger in. Now more than ever you were thankful that you no longer lived on the main estate. A few years ago, when the expectations and burden of keeping up your persona became too much for you, you had bought a property at the base of the mountain and built a house there. It was as secure as a fortress, ran completely off the grid using solar and geothermal energy, and was your sanctuary. Until now, you had lived there alone.

Once the driver pulled through the gates and up to your home, you dismissed him for the night and got out, the skeleton getting out behind you. You looked at your home and wondered what the monster thought of it, of their new prison. It was a modern styled 2 story home, larger than you needed with a ridiculous amount of bullet proof windows. Leading the way inside, the door automatically unlocking when it sensed your 'key' in range, you let out a sigh of relief as you were finally in private. A blip on the security panel near the door told you that your driver had left the property and the gate was locked, so you went to the living room and flopped gracelessly on the couch. 

You stiffened when Beinagrind followed you in and stood at your feet, their expressionless face focused on you. Impulsively you decided that the monster was probably a he, just basing on his body language and clothing. Then you realized that your last command was still in effect. 

"Shit! You don't have to follow me anymore. Uh," You almost called him by the name you had given to him, and that felt incredibly rude. He wasn't a dog. 

"What is your name?" You asked gently. It seemed this was a command you didn't know about though. 

"Beinagrind." His voice was stiff, sounding like it had been forced out of him with a punch. It was deep, with an accent you couldn't place. You cringed as his anger became more palpable.

"No, shit sorry. Um, can you tell me your real name?" You asked again, making sure it wasn't a command. Unsurprisingly, he didn't answer you, just continued to stare blankly. 

"My name is Vega." Manners that had been ingrained in you made you want to say something inane like 'it's nice to meet you' but you figured that would not be taken well. Especially since you weren't 'meeting' him. Still, he made no reply and just stared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've written a small portion of the story already, and my total word count came up to 6,666 so far. That's probably a good sign?
> 
> Shoutout to all the Icelandics! Is actually my heritage, so yay!
> 
> So I started out writing this on my laptop, but that's busted and I can't afford to buy another one rn, so thank god I've got unlimited data!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, you guys rock! 
> 
> Updates are gunna be Tuesdays and Fridays, with maybe some bonus chaptera during the weekend. Depends on how much I've got written.

Another sigh escaped as you stood up again, one hand rubbing your face tiredly as the other pulled off your uniforms scarf and dropped it on the couch. You made a beckoning motion with your hand, not wanting to make another order, and led the way into the kitchen. Like every other room in your house, it was almost ridiculously big. 10' ceilings, with plenty of space to never feel cramped. Black marble counter tops gleamed at you, the shiny chrome of the appliances contrasting sharply to the black cabinets. An entrance to one side led to the dining room, which had a large maple wood table set, and a door led out to the back yard. 

You felt more than heard the skeleton follow you, and pointed roughly at the stools along the center island before making your way to the fridge and pulling out some ingredients for supper. A simple meal seemed like the way to go, and you pulled out the ingredients to make stuffed chicken breasts. 

The silence as you prepared the meal was deafening, so you decided to break it. "I know you're not happy with this. I'm not either, to be honest. Neither of us had a choice in this. It would probably be easier if we could put aside our differences and get along." God, your words sounded so trashy, but you honestly meant them. He didn't reply, which you kind of expected, but when you looked at him you thought his eye sockets were focused on the knife. You could have sworn you saw a bead of sweat run down his skull, though how that worked you had no idea, so you gently placed the knife in the sink behind you before grabbing the meal for two you had made and putting it in the oven.

He seemed to relax slightly once you no longer had the knife, so you tried again. "Beinagrind means 'skeleton' in Icelandic. That's where my mother was from. I think it sounded nicer than just calling you 'skeleton'." This silent treatment thing was getting old quick, and the way his smile never seemed to move was weird. 

"If you tell me your real name I'll call you that instead. There's probably a command to change your name in the collar." Were those crickets chirping in the background? Did your closest neighbour, who was nearly 10 kilometers away, just drop a pin on their floor? 

That did give you an idea though, so you grabbed the command book your father had given to you from your purse and rounded the island to sit on the stool farthest from him. While you waited for the food to cook, you decided to learn what was and wasn't a command, and how the collar worked. So focused on the instructions, you didn't notice how your new housemate watched you, his anger and hatred fading slightly. He looked around the kitchen, taking in what he could without moving his head too much and disturbing you. 

The buzzer of the oven startled both you and the monster, though you kept reading as you one handedly pulled out the food and placed the second plate in front of the skeleton with a mumbled 'here'. Serving it up was harder with one hand, but you wanted to memorize all the commands, so you didn't even look up as you gave him cutlery and a glass of water. You ate in silence, though some of what you read made it hard to keep the food down. 

The collar had different levels of 'punishment' you could dish out, as well as several built in protocols that the monster had no choice to obey. He could not act violent towards you, or a level 5 punishment would be automatically initiated, and last until you turned it off. Anything you said that could be taken as an order was an order he had to follow. If he fought against a command, a level 3 punishment would be used until he complied. If he disobeyed a command, it gave a level 4 punishment. You could order him to sleep, order him awake, make him immobile. When you read that you could order him into heat, make him want you sexually but against his will, you had to stop eating and put the book down. How horrible that these collars were invented, that they had been used on humans and now on monsters.

"Fucking hell." You swore, shutting your eyes at the terrible thoughts now in your mind. You took a minute to calm yourself, willing away the sympathetic tears that threatened. Crying was for the weak, you would not cry. When you opened your eyes and looked at the skeleton, you found that he was staring at you still, and had not touched his food. Did monsters even eat human food? Would you need to go out and buy special food? Was a puppy really too much to fucking ask for? Shaking your head, you got up and scraped your scraps into the bin for composting, put his plate into the fridge, then motioned once again for him to follow you.

"How about a tour of the house? This is the kitchen, obviously. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge, cupboards, or pantry, just don't burn the place down and clean up any mess you make. Over there is the dining room, and that leads to the back." You gestured to the two entrances respectively. 

"Garage is through the dining room, the gym is on the second floor or it." Leading the way through the living room, you showed him the main floor first. "Living room. Try not to lose the remotes, keep it clean. Foyer, don't wear shoes in the house please." You pause and cough awkwardly, remembering his bare feet. You'd have to fix that. Still, you continued on.

"Down this hall is my office, don't go in there. The door is locked anyways. There's also the library, bathroom, laundry room, and 2 bedrooms." You pointed at each room, the latter 5 all had open doors. You'd let the architect design your house, and he had decided you needed a surplus of spare bedrooms. You led the way back to the foyer and pointed to a door near the back of the stairs.

"That's to the basement. Don't go down there either." That was where your armoury was, as well as your storage for valuables. There was also the range, completely soundproofed, and the normal basement things like boiler, furnace, and the batteries that stored all the solar and geothermal energy.

Up the stairs the two of you went, the skeleton following behind you without speaking. The only sound he made was the clicking of his foot bones on the hardwood floor. "To the left is my bedroom, don't go in there if I'm not in there and knock first if I am please, beside that is my bathroom, same deal. Across the hall there is another bedroom, closet, and that door leads to the balcony. On the ceiling there is the pull to get into the attic, it's pretty cool up there." You gestured to all of this without moving from the top of the stairs, letting Beinagrind see everything. The balcony actually ran from your bedroom, along the side wall, and all along the back of the house. The bedrooms along that wall all had doors to the balcony too. 

"Other side there, bedroom, bathroom, bedroom, bedroom. You can pick any bedroom you want I guess." Watching the monster beside you, you were pleased to see him actually looking around a bit before he stalked off in the opposite direction from your room, to the farthest away room on the floor. Should have expected that.

You followed him to it, stopping at the hall closet to grab some new sheets and blankets. The last time you had bothered to change the sheets on the spare beds was months ago, they were probably dusty and stale. When you entered his room, Beinagrind was standing just in the doorway, looking around. The bedrooms were actually like small suites, each one having a king sized bed, two dressers, end tables on either side of the bed, a loveseat and chair, desk, and a walk in closet. This room's walls happened to be done in blue tones, with white furniture, and the sheets you had grabbed matched it nicely. You wasted no time stripping down and re-making the bed. Once that was done you gathered up the old bedding and walked to the door. 

"I'll be down in my office if you need anything. Towels are in the bathroom." You stepped into the hall, then turned to look back at him. "I know this is a shit situation, but I promise you, you're safe here." Trademark silence met your statement, so you just turned and left. You carried the bedding to the laundry room and threw it in the wash before heading to your office. You had a lot of work to do, getting caught up in what your branch had been doing while you were at school for the week. Thankfully you now had a week off, and you decided to spend that time getting to know your new house mate.

Before you went to bed that night, you re-heated his plate of food and went to his room. There was no answer when you knocked, so you quietly opened the door. Seeing the bundle under the sheets, you crept silently to the bed and placed the warm plate and glass of water on the bed side table, also placing a note that said 'please eat', before creeping out again. You shut the door as gently as you could, before heading to your room and going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a bit more info on the collar. It's a really crappy piece of equipment. Actually gives me the shivers thinking about if it was real. 
> 
> I've got Sims 3 on my laptop, and I had made the house on it best I could. Just for personal reference. But my lappy is dead, power button doesn't even work, and I am too broke to fix it or get a new one. So I can't share that with you. Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canada Day! My gift to the fellow Canucks, a chapter today and another one on Sunday, I promise!
> 
>  
> 
> Also! There's a contest to enter! Read the end notes!

Sans seethed as he waited in his cage in the market, the occasional whimpers of other monsters meeting his non existent ears. For the past couple days he'd been trying to lighten the mood by telling jokes, and it had finally started working, but a worker had just come by and ordered him into silence. Damn these monster markets, damn the compliance collar around his neck, damn humans for being so fucked up and cruel, damn Frisk for breaking the barrier in the first place. 

He knew that last one wasn't fair, but he couldn't help it. All those fucking resets, dealing with the kid when they'd been possessed by the demonic Chara, watching his brother die again and again and again. Things were supposed to be better on the surface, the place that everyone had hoped to reach, but in reality it was the worst hell. And once Frisk passed the barrier they lost their ability to reset time, there was no going back.

It had been three years since they'd seen their first sunset. For a couple days everything had been okay, but then the first human had seen them, and everything went to shit. There was a failsafe on the barrier that none of them had known about, when anyone left the mountain their magic was blocked. It was passive enough that no one noticed until they tried to defend themselves against the human forces who rounded them up. Sans hadn't even been able to summon a single bone, and his magic was one of the most powerful in the Underground. 

It all happened so quickly after that. Monsters were corralled, the slave collars forced onto their bodies wherever they fit. Frisk was taken away from them. He could still remember the fear and panic in their seldom used voice as they screamed for their parents while being carried away by strangers. The bellow of rage that came from Asgore, the desperate sob from Toriel that nearly broke his soul, his brother and Undyne calling out in fear, anger, and confusion. They all haunted his memories, making his nightmares even more diverse.

So many monsters were lost those first few months. Fallen down, lost all hope. Sans would have been one of them, but Papyrus had made him promise. Promise to keep going, not lose hope. Ever the optimist, Pap believed that one day they would be freed again, that they would all be together again. A few days later Sans had been bought by some human with more money than compassion, and he hadn't seen any of his friends since. It was so hard for him to continue, his hope was already so low, but he wouldn't break a promise. Especially not to his brother.

Sans was jarred from his musings as the worker came back in, turning on the lights as he walked. It seemed the store was finally open. Most monsters cowered in the back of their 'pens', doing what they could to not be noticed. Sans didn't even bother moving, just stared at the human as he passed. Soon there was a steady trickle of people in the shop, all wanting to look at the oddities. Some stopped in front of him, but the skeleton just glared at them with empty sockets and they quickly moved on. He knew that on the door to his pen was a description of him, one he'd worked hard to earn. It was easier living in the shop than as some humans pet.

The day was nearly done when a large human entered the shop. He was nearly the same height as Asgore, minus the horns of course. He was dressed in a fancy grey suit and practically radiated power, though the wealth behind it was mostly lost on Sans. What didn't escape the monsters notice was the two equally beefy goons who trailed behind him, or the fear in the shopkeeper's eyes as he practically prostrated himself in front of the imposing figure. Sans felt a chill go up his spine as those crisp blue eyes, those were eyes that had seen death before. Eyes that didn't care for the life around them, that would watch as their host body killed without remorse. Sans couldn't call up enough magic to look at the man's LV or EXP, but he honestly didn't want to.

"Tell me about this one." He pointed a large, dangerous hand at Sans, and the fear that was slowly working its way up Sans spine only intensified. The worker nearly fell over himself to comply, almost as if he had been wearing a collar himself.

"Yes sir. Skeleton monster, very rare. Intelligent, actually able to speak if you allow it, and known to be quite powerful. This one is almost too smart, will find a way to comply with your order while still doing what it wants." Sans could have snorted at that, if he wasn't so alarmed by the appraising look the intimidating man was giving him. "It has shown violence to it's previous owners, and can be disobedient. Despite its strength, nearly boss level, it is incredibly fragile. One good hit could end it, it's health is very low." The worker opened his mouth to continue but was stopped by a wave of the man's hand.

"She will whip it into shape in no time." He nodded, mostly to himself, and Sans felt dread crawl through his bones. He was going to be bought by the man that sent fear down his spine just by being. The monster tuned out as the shopkeep went through the details of owning a monster, giving an instruction manual to the new owner and changing ownership through the collar. They went through the process next, and Sans grimaced as the collar forced him into unnatural stillness while it was performed. Part of him wanted to snap at the beefy hands when they came towards him, but nothing could be done. 

Sans let himself zone out for the next parts. His body went on autopilot, following the orders of the collar without his input. He followed the tall man and his entourage to a large black suv and was promptly stuffed into the trunk. It was actually pretty roomy and comfortable, compared to some of the trunks he’d been in. The car ride was short and uneventful, with no talking or radio to break up the silence, but that didn't matter. When they finally stopped, and he was allowed out of the surprisingly roomy and comfortable trunk, Sans could feel his sockets widen slightly at the magnificent building in front of him. It reminded him of the castle Underground where Asgore used to live, but if possible even more grand and imposing. 

Once in the home one of the two goons split off, leaving Sans to follow Mr. tall, dark, and deadly with the other one. They wove through the halls, other men jumping out of the way and offering small bows and acknowledgements to their leader. It was obvious to Sans that this man not only had their fear to control them with, but also a great deal of respect. More than one pair of eyes looked at the monster trailing their boss, but they said nothing. They wove through the maze of hallways, Sans getting more and more lost as they went. It seemed to him that he was actually led through this same hallway at least 3 times.

Eventually they entered a large library like room, and the former Underground resident couldn't help but be amazed at all the books. Good literature was a rarity below the mountain, and Sans got the idea that while they hadn't been touched in awhile, the scary boss man had probably read all of them. Great. An intelligent, powerful, rich, and frankly terrifying man now owned him completely. And of course one of the bookcases opened up into a secret room, what kind of lair would it be if there weren't hidden rooms.

Sans was jarred from his inner musings as he was led into the room, which appeared to be some sort of storage. A table off to one side held what was unmistakably bullets and other ammunition, while crates of who knows what lined the back wall. The thick rug underneath his bare boned feet was comfy at least. 

"Stand in the middle of the room, facing the door." The man ordered, and Sans felt his body comply. "You will stay there. Do not move. Do not make any noise." With that final command growled at him the humans left the room, turning off the lights and shutting Sans away in pitch black silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the perspective change! Cause it's going to be Sans side of things for the next few chapters. His feelings are important too, hopefully I can do him justice and keep him in character. Tell me if he's ooc. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, tell me if I mess up perspective or tenses. I know I did a couple times while writing, that I caught, and I don't have a beta reader so...
> 
> Do I use commas too much?
> 
> Question for y'all, I was thinking of giving you, the reader in story, a pet. Not a dog obvs, but a cat maybe? Oooh, I'll make a contest! 
> 
>  
> 
> Alrighty here's the rules. In the comments below post a picture/link to picture of your pet or a pet you want reader to have. It has to be something low matinence. Also give a description of your animal. Name, personality, gender, how they'll react to the new monster in the home, and whatever else you wanna tell me about!
> 
> I'll pick a winner on Sunday. Your pet probably won't show up for another couple chapters tho. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading! I live off comments, they make me wanna keep going, so please say hi!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so freaking tired from this busy weekend, don't have the energy to make this nice, sorry. Pet contest is extended.

It wasn't so bad being in the room. Sure, he couldn't tell how much time had passed, and he had mild panic attacks thinking about the Void, but Sans had long since mastered the act of sleeping while standing up. As a skeleton monster he didn't have to eat, or even breathe, to survive, but it felt incredibly uncomfortable, bordering on painful, if he went long without, and could affect his magic. Occasionally he would pull enough magic into his eye to have it flare slightly, washing the room in the cobalt blue of his magic, but that was only when the Void pressed in too much and left him exhausted. Sometimes he could hear sounds from outside the room, once he was sure there was a fight in the adjoining room, 'please boss, have mercy', but he was left alone.

It gave him a lot of time to think about what went wrong. How could he have been so stupid, to trust that getting to the surface wouldn't lead to another tragedy? First losing Gaster, his father and mentor, to the Core, watching as he was scattered through the Void and forgotten by literally everyone except him. Then some anomaly, who he later found out was the fucking weed, kept resetting the timeline. Never to before Gaster fell, only a couple days at a time, but reliving those same few weeks over a hundred times really messed with Sans HoPe. When Frisk fell it stopped the resets, and Sans felt his first glimmer of hope in a long time. He still remembered how sad and angry he'd been at Undyne when the kid had died, the first time.

Things really went downhill from there on. According to Frisk, they'd been possessed by the spirit of Chara, one of the late royal children. Story was that when Chara died their spirit remained, thanks to their high Determination, but instead of being a ghost they were stuck with the same emotions they died with. Rage, fear, abandonment. Those can really do a number on the psyche of a dead kid. When Chara got control of Frisks body and brutally murdered everyone in the Underground, that was probably the lowest point of Sans life. He'd lost count of the resets, how many times he'd seen his friends, his brother, die at the hands of the demon child.

Finally Frisk had been able to break through to the hell spawn, got them to remember what compassion and love felt like, instead of LOVE. It only took one more timeline, with Sans watching out for the kid and protecting them when needed, for Frisk to break the barrier and free monsterkind. That first evening, watching the sun set for the first time, still gave Sans shivers. Everything was finally looking up for him, which is of course when it all got worse again. And now Sans was here, standing in the dark for stars knows how long, waiting for his owner.

He wouldn't have to wait much longer. A higher pitched 'daddy!' came from the connecting room. Sans heard a rumbling response, but it was so low he couldn't make out any words. Then, without warning, the door was opened and his world was bathed in harsh light. His pupils disappeared completely at the painful brightness, even as he was glad to be out of the dark. When his vision finally cleared he kept his pupils hidden and watched. 

A human, seemingly a woman judging by her outfit, not yet fully grown but much older than the child that Frisk was. She was breathtakingly beautiful, by human standards. Long blonde hair, so pale it was almost white, hung from a ponytail. The bangs were out, framing her tawny golden face, which for some reason reminded Sans of the lions he had seen at a zoo once. Her skin colour was the only resemblance she had with her father. What really stood out were her eyes, a bright and shining amethyst, locked onto his own sockets. Her expressions were revealing for all of a second, giving him a glimpse of pity, sorrow, and disgust, before settling to a mildly vapid smile. Her eyes flickered up and down his form before meeting his again and he could almost read her thoughts through them. Windows to the soul and all that.

Sans had completely tuned out what they had been saying, but stiffened abruptly when her father moved towards him. This ritual of the ownership change calmed him for a second before fear took over. What kind of person was this girl? He saw intelligence and cunning in her, but that would be a necessary survival trait when raised by the Imposing Man. The corded muscles of her bare legs and arms showed her strength, and she carried herself with a felines grace, a fighters ease, as if she expected to be attacked at any second and was ready for it. Grillby and Undyne both stood like that, back underground. She had seen battle, had probably killed if his Judgement was right. Even without access to most of his magic, some things just came naturally to the skeleton.

Her voice when she named him was enchanting. There was an accent he couldn't place, but then he didn't really know much of the surface world's languages. For once he actually found himself liking the name he was given, if only for the fact that it had 'grin' in it. His perpetual smile almost softened, until he remembered that this woman owned him. No matter how stunning she was, he was her slave, and his past experiences had shown him how humans couldn't be trusted. At all.

She sighed when her father left, as if she was as tense as he was. It struck Sans as odd, and he watched her mentally square her shoulders before giving her first order. He obeyed without fighting it. Maybe if he behaved she wouldn't hurt him, like some of his previous owners had. The walk out of the mansion seemed to be shorter than the walk in, leading him believe that the 'Boss' had indeed been leading him in circles. He didn't have much time to think that over as he was led into the back of a car. Never before had he ridden in the back of a vehicle, always having been stuffed in the trunk. With his pupils still hidden he took the chance to look around, try to get a sense of direction.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry, I know thus chapter is way overdue, but it just didn't want to be written. I'm still not completely pleased with it, but TOO BAD ME!

The ride wasn't long, though the tense atmosphere of the car on made it seem like it was. Sans couldn't help the anger he felt at being bought again, instead using that rage to block out the fear. The driver barely slowed down as he wove up a winding road to a pair of large iron gates. They swung open silently, and Sans could practically feel them closing behind him. 

The driveway to the house wound through trees, blocking the view of his new residence until the last minute. Then he was in shock. It was a grand house, all sleek and modern but at the same time almost homey. It was large, much larger than he thought one person needed, but not as ridiculously big as the castle he'd just come from. 

The woman got out of the car without speaking, but Sans followed her obediently. Not that he had a choice. The driver left, leaving them alone as they walked to the door. It swung open easily, and the monster was baffled. In the Underground almost no one locked their doors. Breaking and entering wasn't a thing, as anyone could sense the magical essence left over from a visitor. Up here was different. Every human who owned him before locked their doors. Why hadn't she? Was she so secure in her power and the security of her gate to leave her home open?

A panel on the wall beeped as he entered, but Sans barely even noticed as he watched the human huff out a sigh before walking to the living room and relaxing onto a couch. He took a second to appreciate that, how she finally relaxed and didn't look as if she might be drawn into a fight at any second. Standing at her feet, he checked the place out. Black leather couches, couches that looked comfier than any he'd seen before, grouped in a U shape around a glass coffee table, facing a very large t.v. that hung over an unlit fireplace. It looked staged, almost like no one actually lived here. 

A smirk fought it's way onto his face as she sat up with a curse, finally remembering him and releasing him from one order only for thee collar to react to the unintentional command, forcing him to speak the name you'd given him. Sans let a growl lace his voice, relishing the slight flinch she gave. Apparently while in her house the human lowered her protective shell. He ignored the second request for his name, but mostly out of shock. No one had bothered to ask him that before. It had been three years since he'd heard his own name. Still, he kept his silence, the only form of control he had right now. 

Her name, Vega, was fitting. Sans rolled it around in his mouth silently, feeling it out. She sighed again, something she seemed to do quite often, and made a small waving motion with her hand as she got up and left the room. For the second time in as many minutes Sans felt shocked. She had made a non-verbal request for him to follow, if he wanted. She gave him a choice. 

He followed in confusion, which only grew as she offered him another choice. Grab a seat? Stand? Always the lazy one, Sans took the stool at the far end of the island. He watched the young woman putter about the kitchen, preparing some meal. Like the rest of the house, what he'd seen so far at least, the kitchen was large and practically radiated money, but still seemed kind of empty. Was she the only one who lived here? In the Underground Sans had lived with Papyrus, and Undyne whenever she managed the frequent achievement of burning down her house in an area surrounded by water, so he couldn't really imagine living by himself. 

Her words nearly made him break his silence and scoff, until he saw the knife. It looked sharp, probably sharper than the one Chara had used, and brought back all sorts of bad memories. In one sense the skeleton was lucky to have his low HP, his previous owners hadn't wanted to dust him and therefore didn't resort to corporal punishment like some other monster received. Sure, they used the collar, but that was different. It caused pain, not damage. He could, and had with his most recent owner, stay on any level of punishment for days without taking a single HP drop. 

Sans froze anxiously as her intelligent eyes raked over him, a bead of sweat rolling down his skull. He practically sagged in relief when the knife was dropped, watching as she put the prepared meal in the oven. When she asked told him what his ‘name’ meant he barely restrained a snort of laughter. Of course he was named ‘Skeleton’ again. It being in a different language helped, but it seemed as if all his owners came from the Asgore School of Naming. 

The human sat as far away from Sans as she could, and he appreciated that. While she read he let his mind drift and relaxed a bit. She really was quite beautiful, for a human at least, and Sans wished for not the first time, and probably not the last time, that he could call enough magic to his eye and see her soul. He settled for looking around the kitchen again, and couldn't help but jump at the buzzer. 

The food placed in front of him looked amazing, melted cheese on top of a broccoli stuffed chicken breast, and Sans was reminded of the last time he'd eaten. Before he'd been sent back to the market, his last meal had been a slice of slightly moldy bread. He would have been drooling, if it was psychically possible without his magic, at the simple fare before him. How he wanted to eat it, silence the gnawing hunger that ate at his soul, but he didn't dare. More than once he had been tested in a similar manner, his torturers showing him what he couldn't have and then punishing him if he tried. 

He flinched when she swore, shutting down his thoughts and watching her. Swears meant anger, anger meant punishments. She had her eyes closed, and for a second looked so incredibly sad, but that emotion was lost when she got up and she just looked tired. Sans watched forlornly as the food was put away, but got up and followed her for the tour. 

The house was much bigger than anything in the Underground, bigger than any he'd been in save for her father's, but it felt so empty. Her words gave him the impression he would have free run of the place, another first. Upstairs they went, and when Sans was given the option to choose his room, he took one look at where her room was and went the opposite way. He was tempted to go back to the main floor, but didn't. Instead he entered the farthest room and looked around. It was nearly the size of his living room Underground. 

He liked the blue tones, found them calming, but still flinched when she entered behind him. Seeing the human make his bed reminded him of Papyrus, and he couldn't stop the flare of heartache that went with that thought. Oddly enough, her promise of safety soothed him, he could hear her conviction in the words. He was relieved when she left, closing the door for him, and immediately he turned off the lights before flopping down on the bed. It had been so long since he'd slept on anything nearly that comfy, he was asleep almost instantly. 

At some point in the night, or maybe early morning as he had no way of knowing the time, Sans woke from one of his usual nightmares panting. His left pupil flickered in an attempt to draw on his magic, and it took several minutes of deep breathing to calm himself down. When the panic had subsided, the monster took in his surroundings and noticed the food on the nightstand. He read the note in the dim light, and for the first time in years felt a glimmer of hope. 

His first meal in his new home, his first meal in over a month, was delicious. When Sans fell back asleep, it was filled with dreams of better times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still don't like it. Whatever. 
> 
> It's gunna stay as Sans POV for another few chapter before switching back to you. Probably. 
> 
> Do you guys like the POV switching? Is it too much boring recap? Or do you actually like seeing the story from Sans perspective? Please let me know in the comments!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorta!

Hey guys, but if a preface here before the actual chapter. I've been going through a bit, switching jobs, getting surgery, rescuing and trying to rehab a momma cat and her 3 kittens, trying to find a new house, and haven't really had the motivation or will to write honestly. I have to type it out on my phone, and it's a giant pain, and I really suck. Sorry about that. 

The main reason I haven't been writing is because in my head, the story is finished. I know where it's going, how other characters are going to be introduced, and what drama and problems you'll face. It's hard writing that all out, cause it's already 'done' but I'm working on it, promise! I'm going to try for one chapter a week, get back into the swing of things. So, here's a lighter chapter, give a bit of fluff. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When he next woke up Sans was beyond confused. His owner hadn't woken him up at some arbitrary time, instead letting him wake up on his own. As such it was early in the afternoon, if Sans judged the sun's position right. On the nightstand, in place of his empty plate from last night, was another plate of food. This one had some now cold toast, pancakes, bacon, and even an apple. Another note repeated the message from last night. 

The monster scarfed the offered food down, unknowing to when his next meal would be. Could have used a bit of ketchup, but he wasn't going to complain. Once his hunger was sated, Sans took the chance to look around the room again. Really snoop this time, as no human was there to watch. If he had an eye for interior design, or any eyes at all, he'd have noted how finely made everything was, quality material in good nick. Even the nicest things they'd found Underground didn't compare to the shoddiest piece in the room. He didn't go near the door at the back of the room though, one that he supposed went to the balcony. 

He soon grew bored of the room, and in a rare act of bravery decided to test his new owner. She hadn't given him any specific orders, nor confined him to the room. The door was even cracked open slightly, giving a peak at the hall outside. His bones clicked slightly as he made his way to the door, poking it open a bit more and looking out. There were no signs of the human, the house was quiet. 

Exploring seemed like something to do, so as quietly as Sans could he made his way to the door across the hall. It was also open, and when he looked in Sans saw the biggest bathroom he could have imagined. As a monster, he didn't have the need to use a toilet like humans did, and as a skeleton monster he didn't even need to bathe or shower. Sure, it felt nice and relaxing, but wasn't a priority. 

This bathroom was decorated in light greys and even lighter greens, almost pastel. At the far end was a short half wall, and when the monster made his way over to it he saw it simply blocked the toilet from view of the door. Across from the toilet was a large soaker tub, one Sans was sure Asgore himself could fit in easily. There was also a corner shower unit, the glass artfully fogged with what looked like branches to match the decor, and a large double sink and vanity. 

Nodding to himself, maybe even making a slight hope at getting to try out that tub, Sans backed out of the room again. He closed the door just as it was when he went in, then crept to the next rooms. Both were bedrooms, with the same opulence as his was, but one was decorated in a light orange and the other with pastel yellows. Bright and cheerful colors. 

Still mindful of the humans warnings, Sans decided against checking out the rooms she had claimed as her own, instead finding another bedroom like his but in pale purple, a closet filled with enough sheets, blankets, and linens to make Pap explode, in all colors of the rainbow. The door to the balcony was closed, as was the one to the attic, so he left those alone. 

The top of the stairs made the skeleton pause, and for the first time since he woke Sans felt his fear return. He could sense the human downstairs, the powerful hum of her soul giving away her position, and he was unsure if he wanted to face her. While she had made it seem as if he was allowed out of the room, perhaps it would be safer to wait for her orders. He flinched back, making a half step towards ‘his’ room, before finding a bit of bravery he didn't know he still had and gripped the railing. 

Thankfully the stairs were carpeted, and muffled his slow descent. Slow being the operative word, because every time there was the slightest noise Sans froze and prepared to jump back to safety. By the time he made it to the bottom of the stairs his non existant nerves were shot, and his pupils hidden again. But there she was, the human who owned him, sitting on one of the couches and tapping away at a laptop without a care in the world. She seemed so young, her face and posture relaxed in the early afternoon sun. 

Something must have alerted her to his presence, because he watched her stiffen slightly and felt her attention flip to him. She didn't move however, and kept typing. After a few minutes of standstill, Sans trying to figure out if he should bolt back up stairs, she spoke. 

“Good afternoon.” Her tone was polite, the words soft and light as if trying to coax a scared animal. Which he supposed she was. She didn't move from her position, just flicked her eyes over to him for a quick second then back to her laptop. From his position, Sans could see she was typing out gibberish, trying not to spook him with her attention. That relaxed him a bit, so he carefully made his way to the couch across from hers and sat down. 

“Did you have a nice rest?” Her words were hopeful, and Sans could sense her happiness at his little show of trust. He didn't answer her though, instead staring at her with empty eye sockets. It didn't seem to bother her. 

“It's a little before 2 o'clock, do you want anything for lunch? I was thinking grilled cheese sandwiches.” Again, he didn't answer, but apparently she took that as a yes. With deliberate slowness, a rate that Sans would almost be annoyed at if he didn't know it was for him, she placed her computer on the table in front of her and got up, heading to the kitchen with a wave. 

Sans didn't really want to get off the couch however. It was much nicer than his one Underground, didn't have any of the lumps or bumps. He could have some nice naps on this. Still, he didn't want to risk her getting mad at him already, and heaved himself up with a slight sigh. He got the odd feeling that he would be following her around like this often. 

The human was already at the stove by the time he made it to the kitchen, but she didn't seem to mind his late arrival. Instead she kept cooking, humming and singing under her breath. Her voice was lovely, what little the monster could hear of it, and part of him wished she would sing a bit louder. She almost reminded him of Shyren.

Both lost in their own thoughts, it didn't take long for the food to be made. Three plates were placed on the bar in front of him, 2 empty and one stacked high with melty grilled cheese sandwiches. She didn't sit yet though, instead grabbing some glasses of milk for them and, in a move that actually made Sans’ pupils flicker on accidentally, pulled out a massive bottle of ketchup. 

She sat down beside him, on the far edge of her seat to give him the space he craved, before grabbing a couple sandwiches onto her plate. Without pause, she grabbed the industrial sized bottle of red deliciousness and made a massive pile on the side of her plate. 

“Help yourself.” She mumbled, grabbing a sandwich and dipping it into the goopy pile. She scooped up a good amount, making sure the end was coated in red, before bringing it to her mouth. Sans watched her eat, for once understanding the odd looks he had been given from his own obsession with the condiment. Her pink tongue dipped out and grabbed a bit of forgotten ketchup smoothie from the corner of her mouth, before she realized he was staring. 

“What? I like ketchup, don't judge me.” She murmured petulantly, giving him a pouty smile. Unaware that his pupils were out and showing, Sans felt his grin relax and grow slightly, grabbing the precious bottle and bringing it to his face. Confusion flickered across hers, but as he squirted himself a mouthful it quickly changed to awe and amusement. 

“OK, looks like you like ketchup too. Good to know.” Her giggles were musical, but in an odd way it sounded as if she wasn't used to making such a noise. Sans was amazed at his own boldness, how she didn't get mad at his ‘gross’ display, and at his own want to hear her laugh again. Ignoring all this, he settled for grabbing a few sandwiches for himself, making his own ketchup pile, and digging in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyla, Carla, Melanie, Dianne, Becky, Julie, Mark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say chapters once a week? Lol, probably gunna be once every 2, maybe once a month. Sorry, I'm a terrible person.

You had thought your heart was going to burst from your chest when Beinagrind appeared at the foot of the stairs. So focused on your computer, you hadn't even noticed his trek. Just the sudden presence, focused solely on you, had given you a start. Maybe you didn't handle it as well as you could have, but now you were having a late lunch with your new ‘guest’ and that made up for it. Probably. 

It was shocking to see little dots of lights form in the monster's eye sockets. You had figured they'd stay black, like a normal skull, but had been proven wrong. They seemed to help him show emotion, though his face stayed in that neutral smile. His attention stayed focused on the food, and you were glad about that as it gave you a chance to relax. 

“So,” you broke the silence hesitantly, well aware of the way he jolted at your voice, “I was looking up some things about the collar. I'm not terribly good at programing, but it seems like I could change a couple things.” You turned to face him now, giving him your full attention and being rewarded with his own, though much more guarded. 

“I was working on a code to change the voice recognition program. Right now the collar needs to hear my voice at least once every 24 hours. I think I can bump that time up, maybe even get rid of it completely.”

Did this monster ever blink? Jeeze, you were always one for a good stare down but he had this on lock. Undeterred, you pushed on. 

“I was also thinking I could change the language setting. Parle vous francais? This way I won't give you a command by accident again.” You had to admit, this was your riskier idea. If you changed the language setting, it would make it easier for him to hurt you. There weren't any ‘danger’ vibes coming off him, but that could change in an instant. You also knew that it would mean he wouldn't understand if you gave a command, and could hurt himself by not following it without even knowing what he was supposed to do. Not that you planned to give many commands. 

“And I know Beinagrind isn't your real name. If you want to keep it, that's cool, but I think you need a better one. How about, if I guess it, you nod or something and we can change it?” You tried to lighten up the poor mood, but it was hard when you were the only one contributing to the conversation. Still, you cleared the plates, all of the sandwiches head been eaten, and brought them to the sink. 

“Is it Bob?” You kept your tone upbeat and light, giving him a slight smirk. “John? Andrew? Wait, are you even male? What do you prefer? Do monsters have preferred genders, or do you just like neutral terms?” The last part turned into a under-your-breath mumble as you thought it through, completely missing his brow bones lift in surprise. Unknown to you, you were the first one to actually think about that with him. 

“Gina? Craig? Linda? Helen? Carter? Jenny?” Was that amusement you saw in his eyes? Sockets? Whatever. The sight of the slightly positive emotion gave you the determination to keep going, even if you felt a bit foolish. 

“Manny, Jason, Neveah, Dana, Carl, did I already guess Jacob?” The atmosphere of the the kitchen was lightening with every name, and you could feel your smile growing. You kept it up, blurting out whatever names came to you as you pulled out some different types of ice cream from the freezer and a couple spoons. Laying the spread in front of him, you gestured with your own spoon before popping open the lid of one tub and scraping a spoonful for yourself. While you had plenty of patience normally, that did not involve ice cream, so you didn't wait for it to thaw. 

“Help yourself.” You mumbled around the spoon. He waited a bit, watching as you dug your spoon through 2 different tubs and putting the resulting mix into your mouth before he grabbed his own spoon. There was a chance this was all a trap, so he only took the smallest portion possible from the container closest to him. You pulled out your phone, looking up names and pretending to focus on that while he took his first bite. The shocked, and pleased, look in his eyes made you smile. 

“I'm not giving up on your name Henry. I'll figure it out eventually.” You gave him a smirk at that, waving your spoon at his face to prove your point. “Till then, figured you'd like to know a bit about me. You already know my name. Let's see.” It took a bit to collect your thoughts, figure out what you wanted him to know. 

“I just turned 17, yesterday actually.” Again wince escaped you when you thought of the previous day, but you powered through. “I'm in grade 11, go to school at Ebbot High. Uh.” And here you faltered. You'd never really had ‘friends’ before, never had the chance to do these awkward introductions. Everyone at school knew you already, your fathers reputation, as well as your own, preceded you. The students, teachers, even the principal knew you respect you, to clear a path for you and would flee or cower when confronted. To be so blatantly ignored was refreshing, in a slightly masochistic way. 

“You've already met my father. He's the king of Ebbot.” Sarcasm laced your tone, and you speared the melting ice cream in front of you angrily. As a child, you had idolized your father. The man walked on water as far as you were concerned, he could do no wrong. Everything you'd ever done had been to please him, and he had never been shy to tell you when he was happy. Or when he was disappointed. 

Over the years, as you'd had delved further and further into the organization, as you earned your frightening reputation, you began to see the truth. How dear old dad was cold, harsh, and absolutely brutal to anyone who wasn't you, or anyone who got in his way. When your fighting skills and marksmanship improved, you were given more and more jobs. You'd done it to make him happy, and now your hands were stained red. 

The clink of a spoon on the counter top startled you out of your introspection, and you managed a small smile at the skeleton staring you down. He deserved to know the truth. 

“My father is not a nice man. He has done terrible things. I am his heir, future Queen of Ebbot.” Your smile turned melancholic, but you kept eye contact. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuun! Yeah, you've got a pretty harsh past. It's a good thing Sans can't Judge you, because your LOVE is definitely not at 1. 
> 
> Comments give the will to live, and to continue writing. Let me know how you feel!
> 
> Also! Tell me if I picked your name!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is gross. My french is terrible. My phone hates me and this is my third attempt at uploading this chapter. Hurray!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance to any francophones. This chapter has gradever 10 Quebecois mixed with Google translator French. 
> 
> It's actually not really important what the French says, for the story anyways. I could have just done gibberish, wouldn't have changed anything. 
> 
> Headcanons for undertale in the end notes.

The atmosphere turned strained after your deadpan confession. Well, even more strained than before. You had sighed, making up an excuse about having homework to do and cleaned up the kitchen before heading back to the living room. Part of you wanted to go to your office, or bedroom even, but you figured that the best way to get used to each other was exposure. Awkward and tense exposure. 

To your surprise, and carefully masked delight, Beinagrind actually joined you in the living room, taking a seat on the opposite couch. When looked at, he averted his eyes and found something incredibly interesting on the floor, but you were still pleased. You grabbed the nearby remote, turning on the television for a bit of background noise. 

“Catch.” You called out, tossing the remote in his general direction. You'd actually aimed it to be off to the side of him, to hit the couch harmlessly in case he didn't, but the light blinked on his collar and his arm snapped it from the air. 

“Shit!” You leapt up, knocking your laptop aside. The step you'd taken towards him, as well as your outstretched arm, were aborted when you met his stare. His skull was once again devoid of emotion, the seemingly-permanent grin notwithstanding, but his eye lights were still there, focused on you. 

“That wasn't supposed to be a Command. I thought you'd be bored just sitting there and thought you could pick the show. I'm sorry.” You put your emotions into your words, willing him to hear the regret in your voice. An eternity of seconds passed, both of you focused on each other, before the cold front broke. Beinagrind looked away, towards the TV, and gave a small shrug. The breath you didn't know you were holding rushed from you, and you ran your hand through your hair. 

“How about I change the language now? Prevent this from happening again?” You asked, letting him decide. The idea of total, non consensual, control disgusted you. It was wrong, to hold such power over someone who'd done nothing to deserve it. 

The monster before you thought about it. He tensed, relaxed, shrugged, and finally nodded. All these tells were minute, but you'd long since mastered reading body language. With his hesitant permission, you went closer and knelt in front of him. He tensed, but didn't flinch away as you raised your hand to his collar. 

Purposefully, you made your movements slow and smooth, understanding his apprehension, but couldn't help the slight flinch as your finger pricked on the pin. Sure, you'd been shot, stabbed, and had bones broken, but it was the little pains that got to you. Papercuts were the bane of your existence. 

“Command, punishment, action, settings.” The robotic, and slightly masculine voice chirped from the collar. It sounded familiar, and had almost too much emotion in it. Beinagrind seemed to wince at the voice, but other than that stayed still. 

“Settings.” You spoke clearly, not wanting to even think of the other choices. 

“Ownership, name, suppression, language, other.” Mental note, figure out what it meant by ‘suppression.’

“Language.” Belatedly, you realized you didn't need to be squatting as close as you were to him, so you rested on your heels to give some distance. 

“For language options, say ‘options’, or say chosen language.”

“French.” 

“Langue française choisie. Confirmer ou modifier.”

“Confirmer.”

“Pour le menu principal, dire ‘retour’, ou dire ‘annuler’ à partir.”

“Annuler.”

A soft beep sounded, and you clicked the fake gem closed again. French wasn't your first language, or even your second, but you were as fluent in it as you were in English. Traditional Parisian French, or even Canadian Quebecois French, you spoke them both. 

“There. Now I can't order you around by accident. Watch.” You stood up and took a couple steps back, respecting his personal space. 

“Bark like a dog.” The order was given with a smile, but you noticed your monster slave flinch slightly, as if preparing to be forced to comply. Nothing happened. 

“Jump up and down on one foot.” He didn't even twitch this time. 

“Put your hands in the air and wave them like you just don't care.” This time it was his smile that moved. It became softer, and you could swear there was amusement in his eyes. 

“Rub your tummy with one hand and pat your head with the other.” Surprisingly, his arms lifted. One went to his crown, the other to his belly. Panic flooded you, your eyes widening and smile dropping. Had you messed up?

Eyes locked on yours, Beinagrinds hands began moving, one rubbing his skull and the other patting his stomach. It took you a second, confusion being replaced with amusement, and you burst out laughing. 

“A bit of a comic huh?” It took a bit for your laughter to subside, and you wiped the tears from your eyes as you spoke. How long had it been since you laughed?

Settling back on your couch, you pulled the laptop towards you again. That voice program wasn't going to write itself. Almost suddenly, the noise from the forgotten television reached you, and you waved a hand at the offending electronic. 

“Pick something for us to watch there Jason. No news though, that'd boring and depressing.” No reaction to the name drop. Not giving up yet though, you were stubborn. He did as you asked with a snort, flipping through the channels before settling on a movie. Some animated thing about talking bees. It was just starting, and you relaxed into the peaceful atmosphere. 

The day continued on in peace. Beinagrind made no mention of your earlier confession. The fact that he hadn't spoken at all, you didn't count being forced by the collar to answer you, was mildly off-putting, but you ignored that. Instead, you focused on the codes in front of you. Programming was not your strongest skill. Having to look up the source codes for the collar, finding out that they were hidden and encrypted on the manufacturers website, and having to create a separate program to go through and crack into said site, it was all a bit much.   
With the cracking and decryption running, after a couple hours work, you set the computer aside and arched your body into a gratifying stretch. With your heels braced on the front of the couch, you bowed yourself backwards, and were rewarded with some satisfying pops when you reached your arms out. 

Curling back up with a grateful sigh, you noticed Beinagrind watching you with an odd look. His face spoke of confusion, and perhaps a bit of concern, but when you raised a brow in question he turned back to the television. With a shrug, you got up, leaning your head side to side and cracking your neck. Sweet relief. 

“What do you want for supper?” Was that sweat on his forehead? The skeleton was studiously not looking at you, his attention on the truly riveting advertisement for some type of air freshener. One of shoulders did shrug at your question, and you considered that progress, so made your way to the kitchen. 

Dinner was simple, leftover chicken breast grilled up and tossed into a salad. You grabbed the dressings from the fridge, taking out the ketchup as a joke, and announced the meal. To your surprise, Beinagrind was quick to sit down, and with a cheeky smile at you, poured an ungodly amount of ketchup onto his salad. 

“That's gross Alison.” You tried to make your voice snooty, but got foiled by a snort as he took a bite of his dinner. Well, as long as he didn't expect you to follow along with his weird eating it was all right. You liked ketchup, probably a bit more than you should, but some things just weren't meant to be. 

The evening went by smoothly, both of you returning to the living room to watch television for a couple more hours before retiring to your beds. After you bade him good night, just before you closed your bedroom door, you could have sworn you heard him return the sentiments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got this idea that a monster has soul instincts. Their souls know certain things right away, like what gender you are, what your sexuality is, simple things. They can also tell if you're trustworthy or not, if your good or evil, or what your intentions are. In a really vague way.
> 
> Maybe they subconsciously can sense your EXP and LOVE, or maybe they can sense your souls magic. Either way. That's why they all bonded with Frisk so quickly. So Sans logically knows that he shouldn't trust humans, and he shouldn't trust you, but his soul is telling him otherwise. 
> 
> So maybe the relationship is moving a bit fast by human standards, but it's actually incredibly slow for monsters. Yell at me in the comments about this. 
> 
>  
> 
> And! I got on a really big writing kick recently. I've got the next 3 chapters already written. Do you guys want me to do a chapter dump and post all of them today? Or maybe one a day? Or one or two a week? Let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've heard your demands! Posting everything I've got written tonight!

The next few days went on in a similar pattern, each one easier than the day before. You woke up early, made breakfast and left a plate for Beinagrind in his room. He would come down sometime around noon, and you would make lunch for the both of you before settling into the living room and watching some television. Supper was made, some more relaxing, and then off to bed. It was nice to be a bit lazy.

Since it was spring break you didn't have to worry about school, and instead spent your time getting to know your new housemate. Or getting used to each other, since he still hadn't spoken. He had, as of Monday, began sitting on the couch beside yours, instead of the one across. Progress. You were still stuck on the name issue, and had continued calling him random names in the hopes of a reaction. Thursday you got your lucky break. 

“I was thinking of hotdogs for lunch, that sound good to you Jerry?” An innocent enough question, one you asked many times a day. Normally he'd respond with a shrug, but today he flinched back as if slapped with a rotten fish. Your gaze jumped to him, smile becoming mischievous and a bit predatory. 

“Everything all right there Jerry?” The words dripped with false innocence, your glee barely suppressed when the skeleton gave a full body shudder and looked at you with disgust. 

“Ooh. Don't like that huh?” He narrowed his eyes at you, as if in warning, but you saw the corners of his grin twitch. 

“That settles it. Until you tell me your real name, I'm calling you Jerry.” The threat was playful, but you fully intended to follow through. If it didn't work, at least you would annoy him a bit. He could take the joke. 

Intense eye contact was made, him glaring at you balefully and you returning it with smug superiority. This was one stare down you had no intention of losing. He conceded, looking away with a huff that could have been a laugh or a sigh. 

“sans.” His voice was just as deep as you remembered, but this time there was no angry growl to his words. Instead, he sounded almost amused. 

Slowly, making care that he saw your movements coming, you leaned towards him and reached your hand to his collar. While he stiffened, he made no move to stop you, so once again you pricked your finger on that damned pin and went through the settings. 

He shivered when you said his name for the collar, and you couldn't help but wonder when he'd last been called by his true name. Clicking the gem shut, you pulled back and smiled at him. 

“I like Sans better than Jerry too.” You informed him, and we're rewarded with a snort of amusement. Even he seemed shocked by it. 

“Now, lunch. Hotdogs okay?” You questioned, standing up and heading to the kitchen. Part of you longed to hire a cook. Sure, you were a decent chef, could make some pretty high class meals, but you didn't like it. Cooking wasn't that enjoyable to you. Before Sans you would maybe make one meal a day, getting the rest of your food catered to you. 

“that plan sounds like a weiner.” Sans had followed you into the kitchen, and you took a second to revel in his choice of speaking to you before the pun was noticed. You gave a totally graceful snort, pointing a finger at him. 

“Careful, puns like that could get you in some hot water.” To compound your words, as you spoke you grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and set it to boil on the stove. When you turned back to face him, his skeletal grin was even bigger. 

“don't need to get all boiled up over a joke.” Surprisingly, Sans didn't sit down right away, instead going to the fridge and pulling out the condiments and handing you a package of sausages. 

“Please.” You huffed, tossing your hair with a flick of your head. “I relish the opportunity to meat you in this competition.” Two in one, you were pretty impressed. 

So was Sans apparently, as his brow bones rose up. “if you've mustard up the courage for this battle, don't be sad when you get burned.” Even without a cue, you knew he was poking fun at the lasagna you'd made last night, which may or may not have gotten a little burnt. 

“Let's be frank, if you've got beef with my cooking, let's see you do better.” You were running out of puns, but from that glint in his eye you knew Sans was nowhere near done.   
“i'll have you know i’m the Oscar Mayer weiner at cooking.” He set the table as you dumped the ‘dogs into the now boiling water. It was nice, actually having a ‘fight’ with someone. Everyone else was to frightened of you to play like this. 

“Hey, you already used that one. Better ketchup to my level.” 

“it'll be a dog's day in winter before i lose a pun war.”

“Well I'm kicking your buns here, seems like you're the wurst at this.”

“first off, i’m a skeleton, literally don't have buns to be kicked.” He spluttered with a laugh, making himself a hotdog loaded with ketchup. Yours looked similar, except that you put a bit of relish on as well. 

“secondly, i’m top dog when it comes to puns. i steam the competition, no need so be so saucy.” He tipped the bottle of barbecue sauce over with his finger. Why he'd even brought that from the fridge you didn't know, probably just to make that pun. 

Whatever pun you were going to retort with, something about getting grilled maybe, was cut off by your cell phone ringing. Thankfully it was just an alarm, reminding you of a meeting scheduled for later in the evening, but made you pause. It was a work thing, and you weren't sure if you should bring Sans along. There would no doubt be violence, and you weren't sure you wanted him to see that side of you. Still, you didn't want him home alone and bored out of his skull, so you decided to give him the choice. 

“Hey, hate to cut this competition short, which I totally won by the way, but I've got something to ask. I've got to go out later, work, do you want to come with? Or would you prefer to stay here?” Part of you hoped he would stay. He took a bit of time to think, before nodding. 

“i'll come with. probably be bored out of my skull here.” You snorted as his words echoed your thoughts, but nodded back. 

“Then eat up. We've got some shopping to do.” At his quizzical look, you gave a soft smile. 

“You've been wearing the same outfit for at least 2 weeks and 6 days now, probably more. Figured you'd like something new to change into. Also, where we're going tonight is pretty high class, gotta get you something fancy for it.” His smile grew a bit strained, as if he really didn't want to, but he nodded with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 hotdog puns. And I had more lined up too. It was almost painful to write them lol!
> 
> Finally! We have a name for Mr skellyton. I like picturing Sans face when you call him Jerry. The betrayal, the disgust. If any of you can draw, that's what I need. His face.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actually 2 chapters in one, couldn't find a decent place to seperate them. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shopping!

Still feeling the lingering happiness from the impromptu pun war, as well as the pleasant hum at hearing his name for the first time in years, Sans didn't mind the idea of going out. He'd been getting a bit stir crazy lately, and he really did hate what he was wearing. Even after using that luxurious tub, and cleaning his clothes in it, he could swear the market stench still stuck to him. 

Vegas tenacity about the name thing amused him, and the fact that she changed the language for his collar gave him a bit of hope. Maybe she was kind, maybe she was different. He was almost afraid to think that, but stars did he need something to go right for him. 

When the human returned from changing, out of her pajamas and into some incredibly tight jeans, they looked painted on, and a skin tight shirt that hugged her curves. It was a bit intimidating, the way she used her natural beauty as a shield and weapon. 

“So,” Her voice broke through his thoughts, soft and hesitant. “if we're going out there's going to be some, uh, rules.” Sans felt his face drop, going impassive once again. 

“Not like that!” She hurried to correct his errant thoughts, reading his emotions like a book. “I've got a reputation to keep. I have to act different, be different. There's things expected of me, and by extension, you.”

She was soothing some imaginary wrinkles from her shirt, and Sans realized it was from nerves. The human was anxious about how he would react. 

“There's a role I have to play. I'm going to be mean, probably even bitchy. I might threaten people, there might even be violence. We're just going to the mall, but I've got plenty of enemies.

“You've got a role too. As” and here she hesitated, snarling at the words “my pet, you'd have to behave a certain way. Walk one step behind, off to my left. Don't speak unless spoken to, look menacing. I would be training you to be a bodyguard, and I would expect total obedience.”

She met his eyes again, holding them, and Sans could see the regret and anger at the situation swirling in her purple eyes. His silence was mistaken for more than him processing the information, so she continued. 

“When we're alone, when it's just you and me, we can relax. Here, at home, or in the car or something, we can drop the act. And if you don't want to come, I understand. Just tell me what you want and I'll get it for you.”

Her words were earnest, endearingly so, and a sigh escaped Sans. “nah, i’ll come with. you're not my first owner to want me to behave a certain way.” 

There was a slight wince at the word ‘owner’, making Sans regret his poor word choice, but the human took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay. Let's head out then.” She led the way through the house to the garage, one of the only places Sans had yet to explore. When the lights flicked on, revealing nearly a dozen shiny cars, Sans felt like he'd been punched. 

Right in front of the door was a shiny red convertible, it's top down and black leather interior being shown off. His body moved with him knowing, drawing him to the vehicle as he rested his hand on the hood. 

“She's a beauty huh? First car I bought myself. A 1968 mustang, refinished her myself.” There was pride in her voice, making Sans smile softly, but he was feeling too much to reply. Papyrus would have loved this.

“Do you want to take that one today?” She asked gently, and Sans nodded without even realizing. The human took his silence well, grabbing a set of keys from a nearby shelf and unlocking the doors. He climbed in as the engine roared to life, closing his eyes against the longing. 

When he finally opened them again, they were already on the highway towards Ebbot proper. Noticing he was aware, Vega reminded him about his seat belt, earning a chuckle. 

“Want to talk about it?” Her prying was gentle, a soft tap on the brick wall surrounding his soul, but made him want to answer regardless. 

“my brother wanted a car like this. his plan for the surface was to buy one, drive it down a highway and feel the wind in his hair.” Sans could barely hear himself over the sound of pavement beneath rubber, his voice so soft, but she heard him and nodded. 

“Wait. You're brother, another skeleton?” She asked, her tone conveying confusion with a bit of humour.

“yep.”

“You don't have hair.”

“yep.”

“Alright then.” She sounded mildly offended at his lack of proper answer, and he chuckled. It did lighten the melancholic mood, and he pushed his sadness down to enjoy the ride. He had to admit, the wind against his skull did feel nice. 

At the mall, she pulled a cardigan and purse from Asgore knows where, pulling them on and opening her door, before pausing. 

“If I give you a command, please follow it. I'll try not to, but…” She trailed off, glancing at him uncertainly. He nodded, which she sighed at before her entire demeanor changed. 

The relaxed, happy look was gone, replaced by the fighters stance that he'd first seen her with. A mask seemed to slip onto her face, covering her compassion with indifference. Even her eyes seemed colder. Sans followed suit, standing straighter and schooling all emotion from his face. His ratty clothing and bare feet kind of ruined the look, but he was still intimidating. 

Shopping with Vega was equal parts stressful and relaxing. There was apparently no budget, so she threw anything that might fit him into his arms before shoving him into the changing rooms. Thankfully he was humanoid, so once he found his size everything got easier. He realized, in the second or third store, that by giving him clothes to try out, instead of just going with whatever was his size, and putting him in the changing room she was giving him a chance to choose what he liked under the pretense of it fitting. 

He'd changed into one of the outfits from the first store, enjoying her feigned disgust when she made an employee throw out his old clothes. At one point she had made a call, and now a man followed them around carrying their purchases. When asked why Sans wasn't doing the grunt work, she replied with a scathing ‘he's actually worth something in a fight’ that made their shadow stiffen in anger. 

Now, after visiting nearly ten stores buying what seemed to be their entire inventory of clothing, they were looking for shoes. In the Underground, Sans had only ever worn slippers. Runners and boots just seemed too constricting. Vega noticed his hesitation, and after picking out some dress shoes, boots, and sneakers, grabbed a couple pairs of open toed sandals. She also saw how his eye lingered on the shelves of slippers, and grabbed a couple of the pairs he'd been eyeing. Her attention to her surroundings, and to him, was amazing. Socks and underwear was an embarrassing fiasco, but thankfully she was ‘busy’ a few aisles down and let him choose in peace.

The donkey had already made 3 trips to the car, dropping off their stuff in the trunk, when she shoved the last of their purchases at him. Once the bags were in his hands, she pulled a few bills from her wallet and tucked them into the man's pocket. She waved him away with a ‘drinks are on me tonight’ before leading Sans to the malls food court. There was only one restaurant, a steak house of sorts, and she entered as if she owned the place. For all Sans knew, she did. 

They ignored the line of people, instead going straight to the hostess. Sans heard some complaints rise up, and the hostess’ harsh ‘back of the line’ was countered with a ‘Vega Fiore. Yes, that Fiore. Private room. Now.’ The poor girl didn't seem to recognize her, but the manager behind her sure did, and he pales considerably. He practically tripped over himself to show them to a secluded room in the back, promising a server soon before fleeing.

Sans opened his mouth to make a comment, but Vega held up her hand to stop him. He watched with confusion as she pulled a small device from her purse, flicking a switch before setting it on the table.

“Short range electronic disruption device. In case there's any cameras or microphones in here, now they'll get nothing but static.” She explained, the tension draining from her shoulders. 

Since he'd forgotten what he was going to say, Sans simply shrugged and grabbed a menu. There was a knock on the door, which Vega tensed at, followed by a very polite waiter. His ‘master’ ordered a pitcher of water and a pitcher of something called Cola, and waved the man away. Once it was just the two of them, she spoke again. 

“Their ribs here are pretty good. Steak is alright, just don't get it rare. Burger is decent, sometimes they overcook it, but the fries make up for it.” She pointed to the items on his menus as she spoke, even flipping the page for him. He smirked at her attitude change. 

“a burg sounds good.” He replied, seeing her open her mouth to continue judging the menu for him and cutting her off. She took his gesture with a smile, nodding. When the waiter returned with their drinks, fairly quickly from what Sans knew of human restaurants, she ordered for both of them, getting a steak meal for herself. 

Alone again, she poured them each a glass of water, something that had always been his duty before, and took a long sip. 

“I can tell you're getting tired. Maybe I went a bit overboard here.” She smiled at him sheepishly, and he returned it with a shrug and easy grin.

“In a couple hours I've a meeting to attend.” ‘Meeting’ was said with an odd inflection, but Sans chose to ignore it. “We've got to drop off the loot at home first, and I've got to call a driver to take me. If you want to stay home and rest that's fine.” 

Sans took a minute to think about that. Today was the most exhausting day he'd had in awhile. Waiting in the market cages for months, being trapped in the Dark Room for weeks, and then the past week of just lazing around the house. Tack on his natural laziness, he'd put in a lot of effort today. 

“maybe i’ll stay back. i’m dead tired.” He joked, enjoying the quiet snort he got in response. So far she'd laughed at all his jokes, even joined in, and didn't seem fake about it. The way she called the house ‘home’ made it seem like is was his home too, and for once he didn't mind.

The rest of dinner passed in companionable silence, and the ride home was so relaxing that Sans managed a short nap. It took the two of them multiple trips to get all the bags up to his room, and once they were dropped off Vega left him to unpack while she changed. 

When Sans stepped into the hall, she was already outside her door and hadn't noticed him. Her new outfit was a little black halter dress with a white bow on the side. He watched as she shrugged on a black leather jacket over top, just covering the two loaded shoulder holsters. She pulled a blade from inside her sleeve, checked it with the ease of experience, before tucking it away again and doing the same to more knives tucked into her boots. Sans felt a shiver of apprehension snake it's way down his spine.   
“So, I've called my driver, he'll be here soon to pick me up. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry. The doors and property will lock automatically once I'm far enough away, I'll get you a key made later. Not sure how long I'm going to be out, probably until late, so I'll see you in the morning.” Her words seemed a little forced, and she wouldn't meet his eyes for more than a second. Sans gave a noncommittal grunt.

She nodded in reply, and soon was out the door. Sans waited 10, 20 minutes, before finally working up the energy to move from the top of the stairs. He first went and checked her bedroom, but the door was locked. Same for her office downstairs. Her bathroom looked like any other one in the house, with the exception of a very large first aid kit sitting open on the counter. He decided not to think about that.

He explored the rest of the house, giving the convertible a friendly pat as he explored the garage. The gym above was stocked with plenty of machines and equipment, none of which Sans knew how to use. Or wanted to learn. Once he knew the rest of the layout, he grabbed a package of cookies and settled himself on the living couch to watch some television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine. Nothing is going to go wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually something important in the end notes. Read those.

Time passed, and Sans must have fallen asleep, because next thing he knew the house was pitch black and soft curses could be heard from the doorway. Sans recognized his humans voice, and so got up to see what the commotion was. He found her hopping on one foot in the darkened foyer, trying to tug off her boot. She tilted precariously to the side, and Sans reached out to steady her. 

It was perhaps not his best idea, startling her in the middle of the night when she already radiated stress and anger. The instant his hand touched her, there was a whirlwind of motion before Sans found himself slammed against the wall, a very sharp blade held against his cervical vertebrae. A beat of silence, neither of them moving, before Vegas eyes suddenly focused.

She jumped back with a gasp, pulling the knife away from him. “Shit Sans! You should sneak up on me like that!” The human pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to calm herself, and Sans noticed a strange glisten on her. 

Still leaning against the wall, he reached out and flicked on the nearby light switch. She blinked at the sudden brightness, and his pupils winked out. There was red, so much red. Staining her normally golden hair a rusty colour, smears of it along her face, and hidden by the darkness of her clothing. A glance at his own hand showed more of the red on him. Had there not been a wall at his back, he surely would have taken a few steps away. 

“Would it make it any better if I told you it wasn't mine?” She asked hesitantly, but with a note of dismal acceptance. Instead of answering, Sans reached out and tugged her jacket collar to the side. Underneath he revealed a gaping wound, more of the red seeping out at an alarming pace.

“Oh.” She seemed surprised, as if she hadn't noticed the 6 inch knife cut along her collarbone. “I guess some of it is mine then.” The joke was given tiredly, but he didn't find it funny. Now he understood the first aid kit upstairs. She sighed at his continued silence, leaning against the opposite wall to tug off her final boot. When she made her way to her bathroom, Sans followed quietly. Processing the information. 

Something had gone wrong during her ‘meeting’. She knew it was going to happen, had gone in prepared. Judging by the pain of being slammed into the wall, she was much stronger than she looked. Stronger than he anticipated. The pain of her injury didn't seem to bother her, which made him think she was used to that. If she had died, what would have happened to him? Would he have been killed by the collar, or sold back to the market?

Once in the bathroom she didn't even spare him a second glance, instead dropping her bloody jacket and gun holsters onto the floor and stepping into the shower, dress and all. The door was fogged for privacy, only showing her from the shoulders up and knees down. When the water sliced down her body, forming a rusty puddle at her feet, Sans released a sigh. 

The bathroom was silent except for the sound of running water. Vega shucked her dress and underwear, leaving them in a soggy pile on the shower floor. When the water was running clear, she turned it off and wrapped a towel under her arms, covering her modesty. Sans watched with morbid fascination as she pulled out a needle and thread from the kit, and a bottle of what seemed to be whisky from under the sink. He wasn't going to question it. 

He did question it when she took a couple long swigs of the hard liquor, after threading the needle. Even more so when she poured some more of the booze onto said needle, and over her wound. She hissed through her teeth as it ran down her chest. Then, steeling herself with a deep breath and another chug, she pinched the side of the the wounds closed and stabbed the needle thorough, stitching herself up.

More blood dripped out as she worked, and she took a break halfway through to pour some more fire water down her throat and onto her body. Sans watched in silence, wincing internally every time the needle pierced her skin. Once she reached the end of the cut she made a tight knot and cut the remaining thread. Grabbing a face cloth from the counter, she dampened it and then dabbed it on the cut. It didn't take much to clean it.

Surprisingly she grabbed another cloth and soaked it too. Gently, as slow and careful as she'd been around him for the first few days, she reached out and took his hand. Sans watched with pitch sockets as she cleaned the dry blood from his bones, taking care to get between the joints. 

“I'm sorry Sans.” Her voice was so soft, barely a whisper, but he heard her anyways. He didn't reply, regressing into silence as she cleaned up the bathroom. She threw the dirty clothes into a hamper, after pulling an impossible amount of hidden knives from the fabric, and packed up the first aid kit. Sans didn't stay any longer, instead going to his room and flopping onto the bed. 

He didn't sleep very well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You's a BAMF!
> 
> Poor both of you. 
> 
> So, that's all I've got written out so far! Kinda left on a cliffhanger. But I do have like half of the next chapter written. So maybe it wont be a month between updates this time. 
> 
> Something I have decided a thing! This story is going to be mainly light. Yeah, there are some really dark elements to it, but I always prefer a happy, uplifting story. Shits gonna go down, but there will an over compensation of fluff to make up for it. 
> 
> My question for you guys, in all seriousness, is how detailed do you want the darkness? I won't be writing any rape scenes, though there will be non con elements, probably from a different perspective. Main thing is, do you want the fight scenes more detailed, or should they happen off-chapter like this one did?
> 
> Yell at me in the comments! It makes the writing monkeys go faster!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone should be keeping score on how badly you two manage to fuck up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is like 3 times longer than I usually do, but I couldn't find a nice place to cut it. DEAL WITH IT.
> 
> Translations for French bits are in bottom notes.

You didn't sleep very well. It was inevitable that Sans would one day see that side of you. The life you led, the life you were born into, was filled with violence. As soon as you could stand you'd been trained to fight, to use your body as a weapon. Broke your arm when you were two, broke someone else's leg when you were 5. You'd long since mastered numerous forms of martial arts and weapons trainings. 

The fragile connection of trust between you and Sans had only just begun to form. The fear that the monumental meeting fuck up, none of it your fault, would ruin the bond between you two made your hands clench in anger. Pre-dawn light filtered through your window, illuminating your slightly cluttered room. The rest of the house you kept spotless, but in here you allowed a bit of chaos. Clothes draped on the furniture, and there was a small pile of laundry on the floor. The towel from last night lay discarded on the footboard of your bed.

With a groan you managed the energy to get up and face the day. The full length mirror on your closet door made you pause, and you took a second to examine yourself. Numerous scars marked your body, varying from the pale of healed long ago to the slight pinkness of just healed. You took off the bandages from last night, seeing the cut on your collarbone was an angry red, but the stitches looked fine and there was no extra heat or swelling. It would heal up nicely, and you would have another scar to add to your collection.

Knowing the spectacular cock-up from yesterday would mean you needed to report to your father today, you dressed in something nice but practical. A pair of space patterned tights with kevlar woven into them, some cute black knee-high leather boots with steel toes, a black circle skirt that covered your thigh holster nicely, and a white blouse that hid your injury but still allowed movement. Some knives were slipped into your boots and sleeves, and you tucked a gun into your empty holster before slipping on another set of shoulder holsters and a black jacket to complete the look. The last set of knives was hidden in your jackets hidden pockets, along with your lock pick set and tazer, and you were ready to face the day. The familiar weights of your secret arsenal comforted you, and you tugged your hair into a quick to-one-side up-do before leaving your room.

It was still buttcrack-of-dawn-o’clock, so Sans wasn’t up yet. You made your way to the kitchen, whipping up a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, cooked ham, and toast for two, placing Sans’ portion on a warming plate and putting the dome on top. Once you’d finished your meal, forcing it down knowing you’d need the extra food to heal quicker, you brought the second share up to the other occupied room, along with a full bottle of ketchup that may or may not have been a bribe. You knocked lightly, but when he gave no response let yourself in anyways. Part of you was hoping that if you kept up the routine, he’d be less mad at you. He was asleep, his sockets closed and his perma-smile relaxed slightly, so you set his food on the bedside table. A last minute note was added, ‘I’ll be in my office if you need me.’ before you slipped out of his room and shut the door.

It was just after 9 when you finally heard movement upstairs. An early wakeup for him. You had spent the past few hours writing up a report of what happened yesterday, complete with who was involved and how you planned on punishing them. Some of your fathers men had been with you, and they were the ones who had failed in searching your ‘companions’ for weapons. One of them had even betrayed you, but he’d been quickly put down for it. You glared at the written pages before you, using your photographic and eidetic memory to ensure everything was correct before printing it out. When you turned to the printer, Sans was standing in the doorway, staring at you.

“Good morning.” You’d never actually said that to him before. This was the first time he was up before noon. That didn’t bode well in your opinion. 

“how’s your shoulder?” His question surprised you, and that must have shown on your face. He shrugged and looked away.

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” You answered cautiously, gauging his reaction. Things were going better than you expected, better than you’d dared hope. There was no sign of anger or fear. When he didn’t reply other than a slight nod, you continued.

“I have to go see my father today. Give him a report on what happened. I shouldn’t be gone too long.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he cut you off.

“i’m coming too.” You blinked at him in silence. This was the first time he’d ever been so forward. Granted, you only got him talking yesterday, but before that he’d always been so apathetic. Never seemed to care either way.

“what happens to me if you get hurt? if you die? am i given back to the market, or does the collar kill me when it doesn’t hear your voice? this is the first time i’ve felt safe in a long time, i’m not letting someone take that away. i’m coming with you.” Even he seemed shocked by his sudden rant, and you couldn’t help but flinch and look away. 

You knew you weren’t invulnerable, that one lucky shot could get you, but you’d never thought about him. There was someone who depended on you now, someone you didn’t want to fail. You met his eyes.

“Alright. You are my ‘bodyguard’ after all. Go get dressed in something we got yesterday. Black pants, a dress shirt, and one of those black jackets. A pair of nice shoes too, but the comfiest ones. We might be standing for a while.” He nodded along to everything you said before disappearing to get changed. While he was gone you gathered up your papers and prepped for your visit. Other than your report you were also bringing your sections financials, progress, and other information that your father might want. He generally let you run your men by yourself, but sometimes wanted updates.

Sans met you at the door to the garage, dressed as you told him. With deft hands you tucked in his shirt, unaware you’d broken his personal space until you were almost done. You stepped back with a mumble apology, looking him over once and leading him to the light blue Lamborghini Murcielago in the middle of the garage.

“What weapons do you want?” You popped the vehicles trunk, giving access to the stored weapons. Sans didn’t reply, and when you turned to face him he was staring in shock at the arsenal. “Sans?”

“none. jeeze kid, that’s a lot of firepower.” He took a couple steps away from the car, shaking his head slightly.

“Sans, if you’re going to be my bodyguard, even if it’s just for show, you’ve got to have weapons. You might need to protect yourself.” You argued. The truth was being around you was dangerous. Danger was attracted to you like a moth to a flame.

“just unbind my magic. that’s how i’ll defend myself. and you.” Well that made no sense to you. 

“What?” Eloquent, good job.

“heh. all monsters have magic. the collar suppresses it. you’ve gotta turn that off, and i’ll be able to protect you.” A bit of humour laced his voice, as if he thought it funny you didn’t know this. You remembered the instruction manual mentioning the magic suppression, but they made it seem as if their magic was only enough to be an annoyance. 

With a grumbled ‘I don’t need protection’ you flipped the collars gem, pricking your finger again. 

“Commandement, la punition, l'action, les paramètres.” The collar chirped.

“Paramètres” Your french was flawless as any francophones.

“Propriété, nom, suppression, de la langue, d'autres.” 

“Suppression.”

“De zéro à dix, indiquer quel niveau de suppression. Zéro étant hors tension et dix étant complète. Niveau actuel est de dix.”

“Zero”

“Attention. Réglage à zéro donne monstre un accès complet à la magie et peut causer des dommages ou des blessures. Confirmer ou annuler?”

“Confirmer.”

A beep sounded, and suddenly Sans was engulfed in a blue light. It almost seemed to be fire, and was coming from his left eye. He clapped a bony hand over the socket, taking a few steps away from you. A wind that was not there two seconds since ago whipped around you, and for some reason your body felt heavier than normal. It was if gravity was increasing, and you struggled to stay standing. It hurt, your lungs didn't have the strength to pull in air. Blackness edged your vision.

“S-sans….” Your voice was so faint, so hoarse from the effort of talking. One of your hands reached out, trying to get his attention. He was hurting you.

The collar seemed to realize that too, and a red light flashed on it. Sans screamed in pain, falling to the ground. His magic pulsed out, and you were picked up and thrown across the garage. You landed on the hood of another car, rolling off it with a pained gasp and using it to shield you from the monster. 

Through the pain all you felt was betrayal. You had trusted him, doing as he asked and freeing his magic, and in turn you got this. You were pretty sure some of your ribs were cracked, something was wrong with your lungs, it hurt to breathe still, and your head pounded. From your position on the floor you could see blue flames of magic licking at the ceiling, not burning anything. 

As suddenly as it all started, the oppressive buzz of magic stopped. The garage was silent except for your pained breathing, and the Sans gasping for air. 

“shit. vega.” You heard Sans swear, but any rational part of your mind was gone now. Replaced by your survival instincts, flight or fight that ran heavily towards fight. Running footsteps came towards you, so you reacted.   
Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you scrambled to put your back against the nearest car, facing towards Sans. With a shaky hand, you pulled the handgun from your thigh and aimed. Just as Sans rounded the hood of the car, you pointed the gun at his skull.

“Arret.” The command was gasped from your throat, feeling as if you'd just swallowed broken glass. The light on his collar blinked white before freezing him. His momentum, as well as the fact that he didn't know what you said, caused him to take a few more steps, and the collar took that as him disobeying and shocked him with pain again.

Silence fell, you using both hand to keep your gun pointed at him and trying to remember how to breathe, while he stared at you with a mixture of shock and pain. Blue smoke wisped from his socket, but the rest of his magic was calm.

“vega…” His whisper broke the stand off, and it took everything in you not to flinch away. Instead, you held the gun in the hand that shook the least and used your other one and the car to pull yourself up. You took a deep breath, which only caused you to cough. It felt like your lungs were on fire, and Sans flinched away when specks of red flew from your mouth. 

Once the coughing stopped, you took another breath. It hurt, but not as badly, and you only coughed a bit. The third breath didn't cause any coughing, so you wiped your chin on the back of your free hand, never taking your eyes off Sans.

You were angry, so fucking angry, but not at Sans. You couldn't blame him for attacking you, you'd have done the same in his position. The anger was completely directed at yourself. He'd shown his hatred for you since day one. How could anyone forgive someone for owning them completely? Why were you stupid enough to hope for friendship, when he obviously wanted you dead? 

“Can't believe I fell for that. What a fucking idiot I am.” You growled out, wiping your bloody hand on your legs. A warmth was spreading on the back of your head, and when you reached up you were met with more sticky wetness. That blood was also wiped on your tights. 

“Don't move. Ne bouge pas.” Sans stiffened at the command, his expression scared as he watched you, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Ignoring that, you'd done nothing wrong, you limped around the front of the car to inspect the damage. The hood of the Porsche you'd landed on had a big you-sized dent in it, and the windshield had an impact mark on it too. That explains why your head was bleeding. The rest of the room was in disarray, as if a tornado had blown through. Some of the cars were moved from their spots, tools and other items were thrown around the room. There was what looked like an explosion crater on the cement where Sans had been standing.

Turning back to Sans, any anger you might have held against him vanished, replaced by sadness. So much for making a friend, even if it was captive company. He hadn't moved, was still staring at the spots of red on the ground. 

“Why?” The question was out before you realized it, the hurt you felt able to be heard in that single word. Sans flinched as if he'd been slapped.

“it was an accident.” You would have snorted at that, if you didn't think it would hurt. Still, something in his voice made you pause. Made you hope. You limped back to be in front of him, lowering your weapon but not putting it away. He took that as his cue to explain, thankfully. 

“monsters use magic for everything. cooking, cleaning, exercise, work. if we don't use it, it builds up. my magic was trapped down by the collar for three years. i didn't even know it got that bad. when you turned off the suppression, it released the built up magic without control.” His voice was soothing, as if trying to calm a scared animal. The irony of this role reversal wasn't lost on you.

“i didn't know that would happen. i tried to stop it.” He still couldn't move, bound by the collars magic, but you thought that if he could he would have been shaking. As steadily as you could, you marched up to him and wrapped your hand around his throat, forcing him to look you in the face.

“Don't lie to me. Ne me mens pas. Did you attack me on purpose?” It made you feel a bit ill using the commands so freely, but you told yourself he deserved it. Probably.

“no. i didn't attack you on purpose.” His voice was steady as he locked eyes with you, a bead of sweat down his skull the only thing betraying his nerves. You took a second to stare into his eyes, trying to see any hint of a lie, of betrayal. Nothing. 

With a sigh you released him, staggering back and leaning against the nearest car. “Annuler toutes les commandes.” The collar beeped at your order, and Sans lost the rigidity of forced immobility and leaned against the Porsche behind him.

“fuck.” He murmured, one hand going to his throat where you'd held him and the other going to his eye. You ignored him for a second, holstering your gun and internally going through your injuries. Breathing caused little spasms of pain, but nothing you hadn't dealt with before. At least one rib was cracked, a few more probably bruised. Doing a quick run through of the multiplication table, you decided that you probably didn't have a concussion. 

“Fuck is about right.” You replied, watching him twitch at your voice.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” His voice was so small. It made you sigh all over again, the last traces of anger leaving your body. You still felt a bit betrayed, and a lot foolish, but you shook your head.

“I've had worse. I'm going to go clean up a bit, wash my hair.” You didn't look at him as you walked by, but you did clap your hand on his shoulder and wait for a second. He froze, tensed as if you were going to hurt him, but when no pain came he instead sagged with relief. 

You went to your bathroom, shrugging off your carefully assembled outfit and looking in the mirror. Mottled bruises covered your body, what you could see at least. You didn't even want to know what your back looked like. With a sigh you stepped into the shower, watching for the second time in as many days as your blood poured down your body and down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: It's a fuck up and do a violence competition. 
> 
> Sans is kinda winning I think.
> 
> Not sure who's perspective next chapter will be in. Tell me who you want!
> 
> FRENCH!
> 
> Collar -command, punishment, action, settings
> 
> You - settings
> 
> Collar - ownership, name, suppression, language, other
> 
> You - suppression
> 
> Collar - From zero to ten, indicate what level of suppression. Zero being off and ten being complete. Current level is ten.
> 
> You - zero
> 
> Collar - Warning. Setting to zero gives monster complete access to magic and may cause damage or injury. Confirm or cancel?
> 
> You- Confirm
> 
> Sans magic - *fucks shit up*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Here's a bit of a longer one to make up for that!

Sans watched as the human left, noticing her slight limp and the tender way she held herself. He flopped to the ground with a groan, scratching his fingers along his skull. Honestly, he hadn't even thought his magic would react like that. It still burned through his bones, almost as if his marrow was made of lava. Since he was alone, no one he could hurt this time, he let his recently trapped magic loose again. Blue flames flared to life around him, highlighting the damage he'd caused the room.

Thinking about that made him groan again. The fear in her eyes, the way she called his name. It hurt to realize how much he'd fucked that up. Her soul must be very strong for her to have stood up to his gravity magic, and her body even stronger to have taken the abuse he put her through and still been able to walk away. He couldn't even be angry at her for using Commands at him, he'd have done the same in her position. His previous owners would have dusted him in a second. Thankfully she had translated her orders for him, otherwise he'd have been completely lost.

Taking the minor break in his pessimistic thoughts, Sans relished the buzzing feel of his magic surrounding him. It'd been so long. For monsters, magic was everything they did. In the Underground Sans had relied on it for everything. For the past three years, it had been like his hands were chopped off. And that a giant weight was chained to him. And like he was blind. Now it was as if he could breathe for the first time.

With a deep breath, Sans stood up and surveyed the garage. Tools were scattered everywhere, cars were pushed away from their original spots. It looked like a shockwave had gone in every direction from where he'd been standing before. That wasn't completely wrong. With a little bit of concentration, the monster used his freed magic to set everything right. He couldn't do much about the damage to the porsche hood, but he made sure the rest of the garage was as it had been when he first entered.

It didn't take long, and he had just finished when Vega came back into the room. She was dressed in the same clothes as before, the only exception seemed to be that her white blouse was now a white tank top. Sans winced when he remembered the blood that had splattered from her coughing. She took in the change in the garage silently, nodding slightly in thanks as she went to the blue car that had all the weapons in the trunk. The silence was deafening as Sans joined her, and soon they were on the road.

She broke the silence first.

"Sans." Her voice was flat, and a bit tired, if said monster could guess. It made him flinch internally.

"ya?" He kept his voice neutral, not looking at her but instead the scenery passing by the expensive car.

"Let's not do that again." She sighed out.

"ya. that's a good plan." He chuckled breathlessly. When he peeked at her from the corner of his sockets he was rewarded with a slight smile. His own grin softened in response. The remaining car ride was still silent, but not nearly as suffocating.

Her fathers sprawling manor soon loomed above him, and Sans felt his soul pulse with anxiety. She had been nice to him, but this man set his nerves on edge. His human seemed to notice his fears, and patted his thigh gently.

"It'll be alright. Just remember your role. I'll keep you safe." Her voice soothed him, but he raised a brow at her.

"don't speak, stay behind you, got it. but it's my job to keep you safe." It was only half joking, and she picked that up with a slight nod. When the car pulled up to a stop at the front door he was the first out, walking over to her side. She met him with a stoic stare, handing him the folder, already having slipped on her 'public' mask, and he followed suit with his signature lazy grin.

The maze-like halls were less daunting than the first few times he'd been in them. It was weird to think it'd only been a week since he became hers. Half the time that he'd been stuck in the Dark Room. He still felt remnants of his initial distrust, but it was a sandcastle meeting the tide. EVentually time eroded it away, and now he was beginning to like Vega. The trust was fragile, and he knew some of the cracks in it he'd caused, but it was growing. To Sans amusement, any other person they met in the halls gave them a wide berth, averting their eyes in respect.

In almost no time, they reached their destination. She knocked on the door politely, squaring her shoulders. When they were bid to enter, she flung the wooden double doors open with a flourish. Her father was on the close side of the desk, and met her excited hug with a smile. Sans couldn't understand how she had any affection for the Imposing man, but he supposed it was a family thing. The humans exchanged pleasantries while Sans took in his surroundings.

The room was as he remembered it, along with Goon 1 and 2 standing at the far wall. They met his glance with steely glares, but he ignored that. When he refocused on Vega, he was surprised to see her gesturing him forward. With his role in mind he obeyed, not enjoying getting so close to her father.

"You've whipped it into shape already? The market keeper said it'd had a bit of a history with violence." His tone wasn't surprised, but rather mildly impressed. Vega seemed to preen a bit at the hint of praise.

"Pot, kettle, black?" She teased, tapping her fathers’ chest slightly. Sans kept silent, guessing that his input wasn't really needed.

The large man chuckled, gesturing for her to have a seat while he went behind his desk. "That's true. With your temper I'd have thought it'd be dust the first time it stepped out of line." He continued on.

Vega took the seat offered, Sans taking position behind her chair. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, missing the comfiness of his old hoodie but still glad to have pockets again. It occurred to Sans that she was using the excuse of sitting down to delay replying.

"There's much better ways to gain his obedience. Besides, I wouldn't want to break my gift from you." Her rejoinder was given with the grace of a courtesan, getting her way while playing off his emotions. Sans almost would have called it simpering, if he didn't know her the way he did.

The conversation drifted to other topics, more involving the family business than him, so Sans let his mind drift. He thought of his brother, of how he took his life in the Underground for granted, and he thought of how her hair looked still damp for the shower and shining in the light. No traces of blood on her now.

When her hand reached towards him, he placed the given folder on her palm. She in turn handed it to her father, and silence fell as he looked through the papers. Curiosity ate at Sans, but he didn't let it show. He didn't know what had happened last night, and wanted to find out. Luckily his patience was rewarded, her father dropped the folder to his desk and barked out a quick ‘explain’.

“It was supposed to be a routine meet up. Arnie and Claude came with me, we met up with Joey, Max, and Ryan. Andrew showed up with 3 of his boys, keeping to the agreement.

Everything was going fine, same as usual. They ambushed us. Joey betrayed us, told them the location early or something. 20 men showed up out of nowhere. Turns out Max and Ryan didn't do a good enough job frisking Andrews boys, they still had some hold backs. 

Couldn't aim properly though. Took a bit of persuasion, but we got them to stand down. Andrew is at the warehouse, waiting for his reward for this fiasco. Joey’s dead, gave him the metal pill for crossing us. I gave Max and Ryan cleanup duty for fucking up their job, but they did well in the fight do I'm going easy on them.”

Sans felt the cold wash of fear flow over him as she explained. 25 against 5. She was outnumbered 5 to 1, and they got the jump on her. He listened to her explain how many died, and was amazed to find it wasn't any of her men. It also seemed like she had done her best to do no-kill shots, incapacitating their enemy instead of putting them down. That made Sans pause. He called his magic to his eyes and took a moment to Look at the two humans in the room.

Vega Fiore  
LV 19  
HP 2761/3000  
ATK 500 (300)  
DF 300 (150)

This is all she's ever known

It took all the strength in Sans not to gag at the information he was shown. When Chara had killed everyone in the Underground their LV had just barely got to 20. It had taken literally the entire monster population for the brat to get that high. For Vega to be nearly there, Sans wondered how many people she'd killed. He turned his Judgement to her father.

Liam Fiore  
LV 64  
HP 1500/1500  
ATK 750 (200)  
DF 425 (100)

He has no mercy

Instinctively San's magic started to flare up, ready to protect him from this giant threat. The girl in front of him, still a threat but not nearly as much as Liam, seemed to notice the shift in him. She turned and looked him in the eyes, shaking her head slightly before turning back to her father. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. She had said she didn't need him to protect her, that she would protect him instead. With that high amount of LOVE he didn't doubt it. Instead he wondered how she could still be a nice person.

The higher amount of LOVE and EXP one had, the harder it was to care about things and the easier it was to hurt someone. Every monster knew this. Sans had met a few monsters, the old ones who'd been alive during the first war, and he'd seen how they behaved differently. Some had gone mad and had to be imprisoned for their own safety. Others had chosen to become recluse, hiding away from the general public. Grillby and Gerson poured themselves into their work, focusing on that instead of their past. He'd even seen first-hand how LOVE had messed up Chara and Frisk, how it was so easy for them to kill monsters they'd once called friends.

Vega was different. When presented with violence she was calm, no hint of fear or hesitation. She had even shown him mercy when he'd attacked her, even though it was her right to fight back. Hell, even a human with no LOVE or EXP would have dusted him for that stunt, but she forgave him. How could she actually care, about anyone, when she had been raised by someone like her father? How come the LOVE didn't control her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for y'all. What colour is your soul? Or Vegas soul? I've got an idea, and I'll probably stick with it, but I want your opinions. And tell me why!
> 
> I've recently been reading some Merlin and Steven Universe fics, got any suggestions?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souls bra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Not dead. Well, a little bit dead, but not completely.
> 
> Yeah, shit went down irl and I didn't reply have the want to write this anymore. Ended up writing a couple things for another fandom, which helped the the writing juice flowing, and then went back and re-read all the comments I got here.
> 
> Honestly it was the comments that made me come back. I really appreciate your support, and will try to do better in the future. Here's an extra long one to make up for it.
> 
> Love you.

You had no clue what caused Sans to react the way he had. One minute you'd been talking to your father, and the next every instinct in you had warned of a threat. Your father hadn't noticed, too busy reading through the report you had given him, but his bodyguards sure did. Behind your father were floor to ceiling bullet-proof windows, in its reflection you had seen his gorillas tense and reach for their weapons. Thankfully you also noticed wisps of blue magic coming from the monster eye sockets and were able to warn him off whatever he'd planned on doing. You'd ask about it later.

The rest of the meeting went by normally, your father asking the same questions as always. He didn't seem too angered about the betrayal, but you knew he was just hiding it. He'd take out his frustrations on Andrew and his men. In hopes to spare some of them you'd put in a note saying they could be turned to your side, and that you were willing to put them under your division. Maybe he wouldn't kill them all. Once the usual business was done he dismissed you, calling for his driver. Headed straight to the warehouse then. You wasted no time in getting Sans out of there, maybe then he'd calm down. The drive home was done in silence, both you and the skeleton thinking on what had just gone down.

You both went directly to the living room once parked. Sans flopped down on 'his' couch with a sigh. It was a bit harder for you, your ribs, head, and collar still giving you trouble. Jostling them wouldn't do good. A few minutes of silence went by, the safety and security of your home calming the both of you.

"Wanna explain to me what happened back there?" You broke the silence, keeping your tone even. Part of you was beginning to regret releasing his magic. That thought caused guilt to eat at you.

"dunno what you mean." He evaded your question. In return, you fixed him with a blank stare.

"I'm talking about how you brought out the killing intent back in my dads office. And how your eye did the glowy magic thing." Well, that was one way to describe it. You blamed your lack of eloquence on how tired you were. Sans noticed and gave a slight 'heh' at your words, but didn't reply. He seemed to be psyching himself up, so you let the silence linger. Fester even.

"i want to look at your soul." He blurted out finally. A light blue colour dusted his cheeks, the same colour as his magic you noticed. He wouldn't look at you, keeping his pupils on the far wall.

"My what?" You really did have a gift with words. A natural poet. You tried again.

"I was under the impression that souls were more of a metaphysical thing. Goes to heaven or eternal damnation, all that. How are you going to look at something that's not real?" Ok, that was a bit better. It also got Sans to look at you, though now it was with confusion.

"your soul is as real as i am. it's the culmination of your very being. everything you are, in one small package. with a bit of magic i can pull it out." His cheeks went an even darker blue, but he shook his head and steadied himself. For someone with no face, you found he was very expressive. Maybe it was the big eyes. The rest of his words settled, and you frowned at them.

'Culmination of your very being' didn't sound like something that should be out. It sounded like something you should keep hidden, keep safe. It was probably your greatest weakness, and Sans wanted to pull it out. Did you trust him enough for that? After this morning? You still had no clue what his magic could do. It's true you were strong, able to take on any challenge, but this was something completely new. Still, after being told your soul was a real thing you wanted to see it. The collar would prevent Sans from hurting you, and if needed you could always use Commands on him. Curiosity won over your doubts.

"Alright. You can pull it out, but no touching." It seemed like a good idea, don't let someone poke at your weakness, but Sans went the darkest blue you'd seen him yet and spluttered. It occurred to you that it might be him blushing. Which was adorable.

"o-of course not!" Sans stuttered at you, and you smirked in response. Judging by his reaction this wasn't something he'd normally be asking. Was it his first time seeing someone elses soul? Or were you reading this wrong and there was some sexual vibe about it. Your thought process halted at that. It would explain his 'blush' and the stutter.

How would that even work? Aside from the immense wrongness of anything happening between a slave and master, he was a skeleton. Bones. Maybe he somehow had a bit of a belly, but you'd just assumed it was because of how he slouched. You tilted your head at him, raking your eyes up and down him as he refused to meet them. Instead he took a few deep breaths before standing up. Cautiously, somehow watching for your reaction and at the same time not looking at you, Sans sat near you on the couch. You turned to face him, sitting cross-legged and he did the same, finally looking you in the eyes. He broke the silence.

"i'm going to use magic to pull out your soul. it won't hurt, might feel like a slight tug though. don't fight it." He raised his hand as he spoke, holding it out in front of him. It almost looked like he was going to push you away with his palm, but didn't quite touch you. Instead his hand hovered a bare few centimeters from the center of your breast.

"don't try to fight it, that'll only make it uncomfortable." That was the only warning you got. His fingers curled inwards slightly, and you felt a slight shock as their tips gently touched you. It was like static electricity tingled over your body. Just as he'd warned you felt a tugging sensation in your chest, like something was pulling out from behind your lungs. It was weird and invasive, but you forced yourself to relax as the skeleton slowly pulled his hand back.

There was a slight pop, something you felt more than heard, and a small ball of white light floated from your chest and towards the skeletal hand. The further it went from your person the more uncomfortable you felt, but thankfully Sans didn't pull too far. Instead he held his hand palm up, only half a foot from you. The ball of light swirled and reformed, becoming a cartoon style heart floating gently between you. You could feel tears stinging at your eyes, but refused to let them fall.

It's colour was like nothing you'd ever seen, filling you with awe. Bright kelly green, with swirls of amethyst and sapphire. The accent colours came and went like little northern lights, ghosting across the surface before slipping away. The whole heart was haloed with a ring of silver. Bathing in the green light, you couldn't keep the smile from your face as you looked towards Sans. He seemed to be equally in awe, staring at what was apparently your soul with surprise. It felt a bit intimate, like something you should only do with someone you trusted explicitly, but you didn't mind sharing it with Sans. 

Without even realizing it your hands lifted up, curling around your soul protectively and pulling it closer to you. You couldn't quite touch it, it wasn't a physical object, but it still moved for you. It felt almost like steam, or mist. But trapped in a bubble. Maybe a bubble filled with the smoke from dry ice? Except warm. And vibrating. You quickly decided that it wasn't something you are eloquent enough to describe.

“It's beautiful.” That was good enough, and completely true. Sans nodded absentmindedly. 

“huh. was not expecting green.” His words put you on edge, and you pulled your soul closer. It also kind of hurt, that he couldn't see the beauty that was your soul.

“So? You got a problem with green souls?” You spat defensively. Maybe you had never seen another soul before, but you knew without a doubt that yours was amazing. From this close up you could see spiderweb cracks running along your soul. Some were thicker than others, the whole heart covered in the fractures. If anything that made it even more perfect. 

“no!” Sans put his hand up in a placating manner. “green souls are amazing. just never thought i’d meet a human who had one.” 

“And what's that supposed to mean?” OK, maybe you were being a bit harsh. All your emotions seemed more potent, closer to the surface and harder to control. Having your soul out had some side-effects apparently. 

“there's seven different soul colours. red, orange, yellow, green, blue, cyan, and purple.” The monsters voice took on a patient tone, teaching without being condescending.

“each colour means something, and your soul colour is your most dominant trait. who you are. determination, bravery, justice, kindness, integrity, patience, or perseverance.” 

You took a moment to appreciate his words. It was the most he'd ever said to you. Then you actually thought about them. 

“So I'm kindness?” Scepticism laced your voice. You had been called many things, very few of them nice, and kind was not on that list. 

“it's your most dominant trait. how you act is based around it.” Sans didn't seem annoyed with your constant questions. Instead he seemed to enjoy them. 

“Right.” You dragged out the vowel, sarcasm dripping from the word. His earlier surprise was completely justified now. It didn't seem right. That wasn't you, this soul seemed less yours somehow. You simply couldn't see how someone like you, who had killed a person before you'd even been 10 years old, could be considered kind. As if sensing your discomfort, though you supposed it was because it was a part of you, your soul dimmed a bit. The green wasn't as vibrant, the puffs of dark blue and purple seemed angry. That brought another question. 

“Why do I have 3 colours? Integrity and perseverance, right?” Perseverance seemed more like you, considering the shit you put up with. The pain and trials you'd been through, but kept on fighting. Of course you had integrity. There was a code you followed, that all your men followed. Don't hurt innocents and protect the family. Simple but important.

“yep. those are your secondary traits. when you're young you'd only have one colour, but as you grow up and develop more of a personality you get more.” He didn't say anything about how your soul had dimmed, and you were grateful for that.

“Alright. And why did you want to see my soul again?” You still didn't completely agree with the colours as a description for you, but you'd deal with it. 

“i needed to understand you.” Sans scratched the back of his skull in a matter you could only describe as sheepish. 

“i didn't understand how you can be so… kind. especially with your LOVE.” Wow, was it a physical impossibility for him to say something you could actually understand?

“What do you mean? Love’s a good thing.” Not that you had much of it. You knew your father loved you, though he was crap at admitting it or showing it in any way really, but that was it. 

“love is fine, great even. but LOVE, all caps, not so much.” He wiggled his hand back and forth, palm down in a ‘somewhat’ way.

“it’s an acronym. stands for Level Of ViolEnce. the higher your LOVE the more hurt you've caused, and the easier it is for you to do so. yours is the third highest I've ever seen.” He didn't even hide the judgement in his tone. 

Well wasn't that nice. You pushed your soul back into your chest, feeling it enter it's rightful place with a shiver. It was surprising how much his words hurt, so you pulled the walls you normally kept up in public around you. With your defenses up no one could hurt you, because they couldn't get close enough. Sans had snuck past them, and only now were you feeling the damage. 

“I told you that your first day here. I'm not nice, I'm not kind.” You hissed the word out, letting the pain power your anger as you stood up. For his part Sans seemed to realize how his word had affected you. His eye sockets widened and he leaned back, but you ignored it.

“I've done things you couldn't even imagine, and I'll do them again. Grown men piss themselves at the thought of meeting me, for good reason. It's about time you realized why.” You leaned forward threateningly, letting your presence fill the room. Menacing was something you had grown up with, had learned to harness young.

A bolt of guilt went through you as you watched Sans flinch away, his eye lights disappearing in fear. You could practically smell it on him. Him proving your point didn't make you feel any better, so your straightened up. As much as you were hurting you didn't want to hurt him back, that wasn't how you did things. Besides, he was right about you, you deserved his words.

Without another word you left the room. You had no plans for the rest of the day, your previous idea of a movie marathon no longer an option. There was a moment of indecision as you wavered between the range and the gym, before you headed towards the garage. Violence calmed you down, and the strain of doing something physical would be better than just shooting. 

It was a simple thing to change into the sweats and sports bra you'd left on the bench in the gym. Your arsenal and clothes were stuffed into the locker as you tied your hair into a quick ponytail before surveying the room. The weights and machines on the far wall were ignored, as was the pub ching bag and training dummies. Instead you made your way to the empty mats in the middle of the room, cleared your mind, and set to work on a fast paced kicking get drill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I nearly lost mu apartment. I got really ill, bad enough that I had to be hospitalized, and cause I missed work I was late on rent and nearly got evicted. 
> 
> Then, a couple weeks before chirstmas, my place got broken into and all of my geckos got stolen, as well as my tv, Playstation, snakes, about $500 I had in a cookie jar on my fridge, and they smashed all my plates and stuff. Wasn't good. 
> 
> So now I'm working like a mofo trying to get stable again, trying to keep my depression in check, and trying to make enough money to feed myself at least once a day. Not doing too well on the last one, but 2 out of 3 ain't bad. 
> 
>  
> 
> There's some head canon about how souls work here, hopefully I explained it well enough. If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or funny jokes please leave me a comment!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive comments! You guys are so awesome.

You'd worked up a big of a sweat by the time Sans joined you in the gym. Neither of you spoke, you focusing on your high kicks while he shuffled anxiously against the wall. It was a bit annoying having him there watching, but you refused to focus on that. Instead you considered your soul. How beautiful it was, even with all its cracks, and how having it out in the open made you feel so vulnerable. Now, with your soul safe, you looked back on your reactions with a bit of guilt.

In retrospect you had overreacted. Worse things had been said to you before, and you'd always handled that better. It didn't matter that he'd hurt you, you weren't supposed to react. You finished off the last set of kicks with a gusty sigh before turning to Sans. He flinched slightly as you walked past him to grab your towel from the bench, but you ignored that. After patting the sweat from your face you opened your mouth to speak, but Sans beat you to it.

“i’m sorry. what i said was really out of line.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Thankfully he didn't look at you, and so missed the look of surprise on your face.

“you are the first human i’ve met who had a green soul. i haven't had the best luck with humans.” You nodded at his humourless laugh.

“but you're wrong. you are kind. i know i haven't been here long, but you've been the nicest human i've ever met. you gave me a bed for stars sake. haven't had one of those since the barrier broke.” His voice was sad and a bit angry. The anger you'd felt evaporated at his unexpected honesty. 

“i saw your LOVE earlier, and i couldn't understand how someone as high as you could be as kind as you've been to be. still be kind to me, even after i fucked things up. this life is all you've ever known, but instead of being the, heh, monster you could have become, you make me feel safer than i have in years.” Finally he looked at you.

It was a bit nerve wracking having him look at you so intently. He seemed to be willing you to accept his apology, his ever present smile gone. To have someone who had seen your very soul, seen you so vulnerable, and still be trying to make you feel better. It was overwhelming, and you couldn't fight the blush on your cheeks.

“Sap.” You mumbled at him, using the towel to hide your mouth. His face lifted into the faintest of smiles, but it was something.

“It's been a long day, for both of us. We probably shouldn't have gone into a situation like that as emotionally charged as we were.” Even though it seemed like longer it had only been yesterday morning that you'd gotten the monster to speak to you. So much had happened since then.

“I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. Hurt a lot of people, but I'd do it the same way again if I had to. That's the life I was born into.” Honesty sucked. A part of you missed the time when you had no one to explain yourself to.

“If you stay with me, keep coming out with me, you're going to see a lot of shit. You might even be forced to defend yourself, attack some humans.” This whole ‘talking about your feelings’ thing wasn't something you were good at, but you figured Sans deserved to know what he was stuck with.

“You don't have to be my bodyguard. You could stay safe here. That's fine.” You thought it would probably be better if he did stay back. There was no way you'd be able to keep him safe out there. Sans took a moment to think before shaking his head slightly. 

“nah, i think you'd get pretty bonely without me.” At some point the tension had left his shoulders, and instead of being afraid and anxious he just looked tired. You still threw your towel at him in response to the bad joke.

“We'll see if you still feel the same way after we go back to school on Monday. But enough of this emotional crap. I don't know about you, but I could go for some ice cream and a trashy movie. Ever seen ‘Sharknado’?” His tentative head shake had you smiling with sadistic glee as you led him back to the living room.

The remainder of the night was spent watching all 4 installments of the sharknado series, followed by Lavantula, Sharktopus, and then Sharktopus versus Pteracuda. You tried to convince Sans that they were based on real life events but the effort was ruined by your inability to keep a straight face. He in turn tried to convince you that he knew a monster who looked a lot like the Pteracuda. You would have believed him, if he hadn't snorted during his story. 

It was weird to be sitting in the same room where you'd had the fight about your soul and be completely chill. Since you never had friends before you had nothing to base this experience on, but you wondered if this was normal. It seemed to be going so fast to you. You weren't complaining though, it felt nice to be throwing popcorn at each other and the TV, making terrible jokes and yelling at the terrible actors.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm sorry. Enjoy?

It was only a couple days after the soulful experience when Sans got his first taste of ‘High School’ life. He hadn't gotten up early since before his most recent market visit, but bright and early 7 am he was woken up. Vega had warned him what it would be like, but nothing could have prepared him for the swarms of humans bustling about. They were all dressed in matching uniforms, the girls in their plaid skirts and white blouses while the boys wore crisp black blazers, and everything about the school screamed high class. Sans, dressed in one of the many suits Vega had bought him, felt very out of place among the young adults. They all knew it too. 

It seemed that Vega either didn't notice or chose to ignore all the stares she was earning as Sans trailed behind her. Knowing her like he did Sans assumed it was the latter. He did all he was supposed to do, follow behind, look intimidating, carry her bag, stay silent, but it didn't seem to matter. His human kept her head high, strutting without pause and forcing the other students to make room. It was like watching a shark swim through a school of fish.

Internally giggling at his humour Sans almost didn't notice the strange adult approaching until the man coughed awkwardly. Sans had no reference for human ages, but the man before him was clearly much older than Vega. His hair was mostly grey, slicked sideways in a poor attempt to cover a rather large bald spot. Just the way he held himself, his hunched back and constantly wringing hands, seemed greasy. It also did help that he was staring at Vegas exposed legs.

“Miss Fiore.” Yep, his voice matched his appearance, nasally and whiny. The similarities between the mam and Jerry were striking.

“Gris.” Vegas voice was practically dripping with disdain. If she hadn't warned Sans about her public personality he would have been shocked by the difference.

“I'm sure you're aware, and I don't mean any disrespect, but pets aren't allowed in the building. School policy.” The man named Gris cringed away as he spoke, likely from the poisonous look Vega was giving him. Other students had stopped to stare, watching one of the faculty attempt to stand up to the girl and fail. 

“I am well aware of the rules Gris. You can think of Sans as a ... bodyguard. No rules against that, right?” Her voice was smooth and innocent sounding. The predatory look she gave, like a cat watching a wounded animal, ruined the image. 

Gris stuttered under her look, his pinched eyes flicking to Sans and away. Several kids were laughing out loud at his failed attempt at discipline, and Sans couldn't blame them. He could practically smells the mans fear. His natural smile probably didn't help. Vega caught on to the sign of weakness easily, rolling her eyes as she walked past the man.

“If you have any issues Mr. Gris you can call my father. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. Again.” With her final words Vega left the man several shades paler than was healthy as she flounced away. Sans followed leisurely, watching the other students put away their phones and complain about the lack of a show. 

The rest of the walk went by without incident. Vega sat in the back of the classrooms, no students daring to break the buffer zone around her. From his position behind her Sans couldn't help but think it was very lonely. The other kids grouped up, chatting to each other and passing around notes, but none of them included Vega. His human didn't seem to mind, instead focused on writing notes and reading the textbook.

Sans couldn't contain his curiosity as the day progressed, reading over her shoulder and listening attentively. Standing around was very dull and a lot of the stuff she was learning was completely new to him. Vega noticed, because she apparently had eyes in the back of her head and saw everything. Loudly, with a very spoiled voice, she ordered Sans to sit down and take notes for her. Some kids shot her funny looks, and the teacher looked like she wanted to argue, but Vega merely leaned back and stared the old woman into submission.

Still, it only took Sans writing a few sentences in his lazy scrawl, way behind what the teacher was saying, before Vega huffed in annoyance and snatched a new notebook from her bag and resumed taking notes. To pass the time Sans started writing jokes on page closest to her.

**‘why did the student throw his watch out the window?**

**to see time fly!’**

The glare she gave him for that did absolutely nothing to hide her amusement, so Sans made it his mission to get a smile.

**‘what happened to the plant in math class?**

**it grew square roots!’**

**‘why didnt the skeleton go to the school dance?**

**he had no body to go with!’**

**‘why did the cross eyed teacher lose her job?**

**she couldnt control her pupils!’**

That got a small snort of laughter from Vega, coupled with a dry smirk. Not quite a smile, but he was getting there. He was shocked when her hand snuck across the space between them, her own neat words contrasting his.

_’What’s the mathematician do about constipation?_

_He works it out with a pencil.’_

It took Sans a minute to get that joke, human bodily functions not really something he knew about, but once he did he could barely contain his giggles. His writing was even shakier when he replied.

**‘gross’**

_‘Why don't farts graduate?_

_Because they keep getting expelled.’_

**‘youre gross’**

_’How did the janitor die?_

_He kicked the bucket!’_

**‘dark’**

The quiet giggle Vega gave was music to Sans not-actually-there ears. He almost didn't hear it, even sitting right beside her. Certainly no one else noticed, but Sans didn't mind. It was his secret. He spent the rest of the day doing the same thing. Vega smiled at him a few times, writing back increasingly darker jokes while he stayed pure. It was only once the chauffeur had dropped them off at home that Vega opened up, slapping Sans playfully as she passed him.

“Alright funny bones, what do you want for supper?” Sans only shrugged at her question, dropping the backpack he'd been carrying all day onto the ground and faceplanting onto the sofa with a groan. His antics earned another laugh but Sans was too tired to care. Within minutes he was asleep.

Only to be rudely awakened by a pillow being slapped against his skull. He grumbled in false anger as his humans sing song voice told him dinner was ready and ordering him to change out of his suit before it wrinkled. Reveling in the use of his long suppressed magic Sans opened a shortcut to his room, changed quickly, then took another shortcut to the kitchen door. The familiar smell of marinara greeted him, and Sans felt his eye lights wink out.

“Sans? You okay there?” Vegas voice sounded far away, and Sans couldn't even bring himself to look at her. His chest felt tight, like someone was sitting on it. It hurt to breathe. There was a buzzing that wouldn't stop and suddenly the floor was rushing up to greet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm in a new apartment and will hopefully be getting a computer soon. Life is looking up a bit. Finally.
> 
> Sorry for the delay in chapters. I promise I haven't forgotten about this story, and I will continue it, but it will take time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're better at killing people than dealing with feeling, but you tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Panic attacks. Not really described, I tried to keep it vague, but it's still there. There also some mild self-hate.
> 
> You can expect more regular updates.

It was only the most graceless of dives that saved Sans’ head from meeting with the kitchen floor. You weren’t sure what had happened, but the stress your skeletal friend was in was quite obvious. With a small amount of hesitation you scooped the monster up into your arms, carrying him princess style. He was surprisingly light, something you didn’t really expect. It made sense though, considering the lack of flesh, fat, and muscle on his body.

Shaking the useless thoughts out of your head you rushed from the room. Obviously something in it had triggered your companion, but you didn’t know where to take him. Your first thought was his room, that was a safe place for him, but you weren’t sure if your presence would ruin the security. Instead you opted for one of the couches, farthest from the kitchen. Bundling the small monster up, you tucked him against your chest as you sat, resting his head above your heart unconsciously.

“Sans, buddy, it’s alright. You’re okay.” It was a struggle to keep your voice calm, but you managed. He made no sign of hearing you, a small whimper escaping his throat and piercing through your soul.

“Breathe with me.. C’mon bone head, it’s not hard. In and out, nice and slow.” It took a few tries, Sans trying to control his hyperventilation to match with your slow even breaths. Finally his shivering, which you had barely even registered, started to slow down and his breathing copied yours. Ignoring the occasional hitch and waver.

“That’s it, you're doing great. You’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe Sans, no one is going to hurt you. In and out.” You kept up the mindless babble of praise, trying to pull Sans from wherever his mind had taken him. Your experience with panic attacks was a bit helpful, but you’d never had someone there to help ease you out of one. The feeling of inadequacy wasn’t something you were used to, and you vowed you would find out how to help with any future attacks. 

An undetermined amount of time passed with you talking, humming, and even singing to Sans while he cried on your chest. His tears left blue streaks down his skull and stains on your shirt, but that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was his hand clenched around your blouse, his small body curled up defensively. A rush of protective rage sang through your blood, and you knew that you would kill anyone who tried to hurt this monster in your arms. His trembling had stopped completely, so you stopped your soothing babble.

“Sans? You back with me here bud?” Really, you had no clue how to help someone out during something like this. During your own attacks you reacted with violence, at least in public. 

“ya.” His mumbled reply was slower than usual, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Do you want to, uuh, talk about it?” That was a thing, right? Talking about your feelings? You vaguely remembered reading something about how bottling up emotions wasn’t good, and how talking to someone was helpful. You would never burden someone with your troubles, no one deserved that, but you would gladly take some away from Sans if you could.

“... my brother.” Sans has hesitated on his reply enough that you had thought you weren’t going to get one at all. “he loved to cook. spaghetti mostly. exclusively. worst thing i’ve ever tasted.”He gave a dry laugh at the end of that, and you couldn’t help but smile sadly.

“we got separated in the markets. i haven't seen him in three years. stars i miss him.” That seemed to take all his energy to admit, not that you blamed him. Being an only child you had no clue about the bond between siblings, but you’d read plenty about it.

Sans gave a defeated sigh and sank down onto you even more, nuzzling against your chest. You blushed at that a bit, the innocence behind it warming your soul, and you carefully tucked his head under your chin.

“Tell me about him?” You asked softly, not wanting to push but aching to know more. One of your hands, which had been resting on his back before, started to rub in calming circles.Odd, you didn’t remember telling your hand to do that. Bodily mutiny. The monster in your lap stiffened slightly before going, heh, boneless at your ministrations. Your hand was forgiven for its sins.

The rest of the night was spent with Sans telling you all sorts of stories about his brother, Papyrus, and all the shenanigans the two skele-bros got into Underground. He told you about his pranks, the puzzles set up to catch humans, how a friend, who was a fish (?) taught Papyrus to cook spaghetti and had burned down her house. Many times. Stories about raising his brother, teaching him how to use his magic, reading him stories before bed every night. You particularly loved the one about when Papyrus went on a date with a child, only to friend zone them. The food in the kitchen was completely forgotten as you listened attentively.

It shamed you to admit it, even to yourself, but you hadn’t thought too much of what life in the Underground must have been like for Sans and the other monsters, or how it would have been to grow up without the sun and stars. There were little inconsistencies in his stories, like how he’d raised Papyrus from a babybones and then also how his dad had reacted to Sans teaching Papyrus ‘socks’ as his first word. You didn’t mention them, filing away any information you got in your head without comment. 

Finally, exhausted by his day and emotional outburst, Sans fell asleep in your arms. There was a part of you, which you ruthlessly stomped down, that squealed at how cute and soft he looked asleep. He looked peaceful in a way that you had never seen on anyone else before. It took almost no effort to stand from the couch, still carrying the sleeping skeleton in your arms, and head up the stairs to his room. Sans grumbled slightly when you placed him on his bed and pulled away, but settled down quickly. You pulled the blanket up over him, stroking the crown of his skull once before creeping from the room.

Back down in the kitchen you started cleaning up the discarded food, going so far as to take the garbage bag out to the garage so there would be nothing to remind Sans about this in the morning. Once the kitchen was again spotless you made your way to your office. There was homework and gang work to worry about, and you wanted to put some extra effort into your personal side projects. For the first time since Sans became yours you left the door to your office open, just in case he needed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A COMPUTER! AND INTERNET!
> 
> Guys, I have lived like a freaking caveman and haven't had home internet in like 2 years. You have no idea how exciting it is for me to actually be able to dick around on the web again. I'm going to read so much manga, and watch so much filthy porn. I am also excited about having a shower, to wash away all my sins and shitty jokes.
> 
> So in this chapter you don't know how to help someone having a panic attack, even though you've had them before. Now I know Vega is super bad ass, but she's also just a human. I can't even imagine how it would feel to go through the shit she has, having actually killed people as a child and been in combat situations. Would fuck anyone up, so there's totally some PTSD there. But, because shit's so messed up and weakness isn't allowed, Vega has never and probably will never get any professional help for herself. She's never had help with hers, so doesn't know how to help Sans with his, and just kind of goes with her gut reaction. 
> 
> This is like me in a way, because I haven't gotten any therapy for my issues really, so all my knowledge of dealing with my panic attacks is from more knowledgeable fics on this site actually. Or cuddling my dog until it passed. Either or. SO don't use this as a way to deal with panic attacks, it's probably not the most helpful way. But I dont know shit.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's make a deal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for hints of pedophilia. Nothing explicit, but it's skeevy. 
> 
> Enjoy an extra long chapter cause I didn't have a place to split it and it just went on.

The next couple months went by without any major problems. By a mutual unspoken agreement neither you or Sans brought up the spaghetti incident, instead pretending like it never happened. There were some small changes however. Sans was more open with you, telling you stories about his life before, anecdotes about Papyrus and his other friends. 

You, in turn, tried to reciprocate the stories telling. Your first attempt, telling Sans about the first time you broke your leg by getting thrown from a moving car, did not go over very well. While it hadn't been very fun when it happened, now that you were all healed up you did find it a bit amusing. Sans did not, and had given you a look of shock with a hint of horror before excusing himself to his room. In hindsight, maybe telling him how the broken bone had pierced through your skin wasn't the best idea.

After that mistake you tried to keep your stories light and fluffy. It was hard, considering you never had friends to do things with, and most of your life revolved around the gang and violence. You settled for telling him about small mistakes your underlings had made during jobs. Small things, like one of them tripping when they were coming to talk to you, or forgetting to latch their belt properly and having their weapons drop off when they hopped out of the vans. Sans never talked about his previous owners, and you never talked about your father, but that was okay.

School was easy and dull, but Sans seemed to enjoy going so you didn't mind. It was fun teaching him about the different subjects when you got home and did your homework. In a fit of inspiration you started making copies of whatever you had to do and gave them to Sans to complete as well. There were subjects he was terrible in, like biology, history, and geography, but he was amazing at calculus and physics. You were no slouch in those either, but Sans was able to finish the worksheets in a fraction of the time you could. 

Explaining human biology to him was probably the funniest thing you'd ever done. He had working knowledge about the skeletal system, obviously, though he blushed a bit when diagrams of human skeletons were shown. The nervous and cardiovascular systems were interesting to him, the digestive and urinary systems grossed him out, and he straight up nope’d from the room with a blushing cobalt face when you started talking about reproduction. You had some perverse joy in knowing that his curiosity would get the better of him eventually, and then you could continue with the menstrual cycle. Red alert for the cringe factor, if the reaction human boys your age were any example.

Your section of the gang was thankfully hassle free, due to the amazing generals you had picked out to handle day to day business. The big decisions were still made by you, and each of your 3 generals gave weekly reports about what they'd done, but having such qualified people running your underlings meant you had more freedom to work on your private projects. 

The first project you completed a few weeks ago, a month and a half since you got Sans. Coding wasn't something you did very often, so it took longer than you would have liked it to, but you were finally able to extend the amount of time Sans could go without hearing your voice. While originally he couldn't go more than 24 hours away, risking being hurt by the collar if that happened, you were now able to push the time to a week. Eventually you would get it longer, but it was hard to mess around with the coding without disrupting the magic that the collar ran on. You didn't know enough about human magic to be risk dealing with that.

Sans had seemed shocked when you told him what you'd managed to do, like he'd completely forgotten you'd promised that the first day. He was stiff when you plugged the micro USB holding the new code into the back of the collar, and had shivered slightly when you accidentally brushed his neck vertebrae, but other than that nothing happened. You had been mildly worried that the magic of the collar would reject your code, and images of Sans writhing in pain as the collar punished him haunted your night.

The next Saturday Sans tried to test the new time limit, hiding in his room so the collar wouldn't hear your voice. He only lasted until the afternoon, bored ‘out of his skull’, before joining you in the living room. You would never admit it, but you had been lonely without him and his puns. To pacify his curiosity on the timer you decided to spend the weekend signing at him instead of talking, leaving the room whenever you had to use the phone. His smile when you passed the 30 hour mark without speaking to him made the mild inconvenience worth it.

Now your final project, which you hadn't told Sans about, had just shown some progress. It was Friday evening, a messenger had come by after school with some news, and you decided to take action. 

“Sans! No sleeping yet, we've got a job tonight.” You called out as you made your way to your room to get changed. There was a muffled groan in response from the couch, making you giggle.

For an outfit you decided on a light peach scarf, looping it around the back of your neck, crossed over your bra-less chest, around your lower back and tying it in front, off to one side. Some flat knives were tucked against your stomach, snug against the scarf. You paired it with a black pleated skirt that went to your mid thigh and some black booties with white bows on the sides. There were a couple boot knives in your shoes but there wasn't any place for more weapons. For your hair you decided to pull it into some simple braided pigtails, leaving out your bangs and some carefully selected bits. Innocent but sexy was what you were going for, so you kept your makeup natural looking with some glossy pink lips and emphasized eyes.

Deeming yourself acceptable you went back downstairs, grabbing a set of shoulder holsters on the way. Just because you couldn't wear them with this outfit doesn't mean you couldn't find a way. 

“Hey Sans, I need you to wear these under your jacket for me.” You weren't looking at Sans as you entered the living room, too busy making sure both guns in the holsters were fully loaded. When you did look up, the unusual silence catching your attention, you were greeted by a very blue faced skeleton staring up at the ceiling. 

“Sansy.” The smirk was audible in your voice and you made your way towards him. His eye lights flicked down to your face, roamed your body, then flew back to the ceiling. He jumped pretty good when you placed your hand on his shoulder, tugging lightly at his suit jacket. 

“You might as well look at me, you're going to have to get used to it before we get there. Now put these on, they don't go with my outfit.” You ordered good naturedly, giving him the holsters before walking away. 

This wasn't the first job you had taken Sans on, and while you normally dressed to emphasize your natural beauty, this was the most amount of skin you had shown around the skeleton. Poor guy was staring at far wall as he tried to get out of his jacket and put the holsters on at the same time. 

“so, uh, where are we goin’ today?” Sans finally calmed down, probably thanks to the fact that you were behind him and out if his line of sight. Cute.

“We are going to pay a visit to my uncle Sergio. He's not actually related to me, but he grew up with my father so it's close enough.” Italians were weird about family sometimes. Everyone was family, unless they betrayed the family. 

“He's got something I want, hopefully I can convince him to sell to me. It's going to be a bit tough, he's known me since I was born so I can't really use intimidation, and threats won't work since he's family.” Which left you with coercion. Sweet talk was one of your specialties, and you had enough dirt on your uncle that you'd be able to get what you wanted. Probably. 

While you talked Sans managed to finish getting dressed and you both made your way to the garage, hopping into the bulletproof Rolls Royce Phantom and making your way down the drive. His face was still a bit blue, but he was no longer speechless, so that was good.

“you dressed up like this to meet your uncle?” Fair question from the skeleton, causing you to shake your head.

“He runs the Pentagram, high end club that provides booze for the mistreated youths of today and also runs nearly every type of street drug known to man.” Not to mention the weapons and prostitutes. 

“ah. sounds like a great man.” His quip was the last thing either of you said on the drive, a comfortable silence settling in the car. It wasn't long before you made it to the club, parking your car in one of the v.i.p. spots. Before you got out, you turned to Sans.

“Keep close to me, no matter what. I've got a couple knives on me, but that's it. We shouldn't be attacked here, but if something happens I'll need those guns.” Sans nodded at that, seemingly uncomfortable with carrying the weapons but willing to do it for you.

“Remember the rules. Do as I say, don't speak unless spoken to, keep to your role. If my intel is right this isn't something we can risk fucking up.” You never gave him the full details of what job you were doing, trying to spare him from your darker side. He wasn't stupid, and you knew he was listening to your conversations, but you still wanted to keep him as safe as you could.

When he nodded again to your statement, any previous signs of discomfort locked behind his ‘working’ mask, you nodded back before getting out of the car. He followed you around to the trunk, where you pulled out a black suitcase and gave it to him. Sans took it without comment, used to doing all the grunt work, the two of you made your way to the front door. 

It wasn't even 7 yet but there was already a lineup to get in. Anyone who was anyone went to the Pentagram, even just standing outside was a step up the social ladder. Some ignorant socialites cat called as you bypassed the silk barricade and went straight for the bouncer. He recognized you, of course, and let you and Sans in without comment. There was some angry yells for that, but you didn't mind.

Inside was what you'd see at any high end club. Dark but still well lit, high tables and stools that would look trashy in full light but managed to look classy now. There was a dance floor to one side, the floor made up of hundreds of LED squares flashing random colours. The stage had a couple poles, both with girls dancing on them, and nearly 10 cages hung from ghetto ceiling. Each cage had a mostly naked woman dancing inside them as well. Strobe and spotlights roamed the floor, and fog machines worked overtime to give the place a hint of mystery. 

On the other side of the seating moat was the bar, well lit so the bartenders could see what they were doing but not enough to detract from the mood. There were stairs leading to the balcony v.i.p. section, guarded by more bouncers and surrounded by those hoping someone up top would take notice of them and bring them in. The place was packed, not that you had ever seen it empty, forcing Sans to be right behind you as you made your way through the crowd. To the side of the bar was a large silver door, also well guarded, and that's where you went.

When the door shut behind you the music, which had been just loud enough to make conversation impossible without yelling, shut off. Your uncle didn't skimp on the sound proofing. The hallway wasn't long, and at the far end was a bright red door with two more guards standing at attention. You walked right up to them, raising an eyebrow as one of them went into the office to announce you. There was no doubt that your unless knew you were here, but this was a power play. When the guard came back out you didn't wait for him to speak before flouncing into the room like you owned the place.

“Uncle Sergio!” You called out, keeping your voice happy and light. The man in question greeted you with open arms, pulling you in for a quick hug. Sergio embodied many Italian stereotypes, including the olive skin, slicked back hair, partially opened shirt displaying his chest hair and gold chains, and a pair of bright blue pants. He was a few years older than your father and hadn't aged nearly as well, but was handsome enough. 

When he pulled back from the hug you watched as his eyes traveled up and down your body. You didn't miss how they lingered on your exposed cleavage and midriff. You also didn't miss how the skeleton following you stiffened up at the contact, and then stiffen even more when he looked around the room. It was a basic office, overly large wooden desk, leather chairs, filled book cases. What made it so special was the other skeleton standing in the corner, staring at yours with wide hopeful eyes. You didn't get a chance to check him out before your uncle pulled your attention.

“Vega my darling bella, you are looking more and more beautiful every time I see you. And how you've grown!” His eyes strayed to your chest again, and revulsion raced through you. Sergio had always had wandering eyes and the occasional hand, playing it off as Italian affection.

“Oh uncle.” You cooed innocently, going on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. Just like you wanted his attention once again went you your cleavage, and you heard his breath quicken.

“What bring my little darling to this neck of the woods hmm?” His meaty palm went to your exposed lower back, fingertips dipping beneath the scarf as he lead you to his mini bar.

“Do I need a reason to visit my favourite uncle?” You pouted childishly, fighting every instinct to break his hand. Turning slightly you snapped you finger to grab Sans attention and pointed at a corner opposite Papyrus. Sans pupils flicked between you and Sergio before he complied. Sergio didn't miss this as he poured you a glass of wine.

“Of course not Bella. I would have you anytime, you know that.” His double entendre made you want to punch him, but instead you took a sip of your wine as you watched him walk back to his chair.

“I see you have a monster now. Looks like mine.” He pointed to Papyrus in the corner, giving you an excuse to look at the skeleton briefly. He was taller than you and looked slim in the suit he was wearing, the silver collar covered slightly by some thick silver chains. 

“Isn't it cute? Daddy bought me it for my birthday. Which you missed uncle.” You whined, walking up to where he was and sitting down on the desk in front of him. Surprise and lust flashed though his eyes, the hand that wasn't holding his wine reaching out to rest on your knee.

“I'm sorry Bella, work got in the way. You know how it is.” You did, you also knew he hadn't had anything important happening on your birthday. Not that you minded him missing it, you were actually rather thankful. Another sip of wine to hide your disdain.

“I forgive you uncle. And I know how you can make it up to me.” You leaned forward slightly, under the pretense of getting to his eye level. The man in front of you had his eyes glued to your chest. He made a questioning sound, apparently forgetting how to talk. 

“Sell me your skeleton uncle, pretty please! I want the matching set.” It was painful talking about Sans as if he was nothing more than an accessory, but you knew it was needed. Sergio looked at the skeletons in question before lifting his eyes to yours, which you kept innocently open. 

“Now tesora, that's a pretty expensive toy.” Papyrus stiffened at the words, his eyes finally broke from Sans to flick to his owner and then down to his shoes. 

“I know uncle. I've brought a half with me, that's what you paid for it right?” It wasn't, you knew that. Papyrus had been sold to him for a hundred thousand, so you were offering him five times as much. You didn't miss the calculation gleam in his eye as his thumb rubbed circles on the inside of your knee.

“I don't know bambolina.” He hemmed, pretending to look thoughtful. You knew that look, knew what it meant for you, but fuck if you didn't want to. But this was for Sans, for his brother. You would do anything for him, and it wasn't like you hadn't done this before.

“Please uncle.” Even though your body rebelled, you slid off the desk and onto the man's lap. His hand slid up your thigh to your hip, pulling you even closer.

“Maybe we can talk about it? In private?” You tugged at his shirt collar, casting an annoyed glance at the two monsters. He got your message and snapped his finger at Papyrus and then pointed at the door. It seemed like that was some unspoken command, because the skeleton snapped to attention before marching out the door. Sans lingered, staring at you with unreadable eyes. 

“Sans, leave the briefcase and go stand guard.” That was a command you had used before, when things were happening that you didn't want him to be exposed to. He knew this, but still he hesitated. You didn't let up on your glare, so he brought the case to the desk and trudged out the door. Sergio turned your head towards him, and as the door swung shut you shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, that's a thing. 
> 
> Papyrus tho!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i should probably pace these chapters out, and also wait a day at least and relaxing read them before I post, but I don't wanna! Consider it a chapter dump or whatever, I'm posting these as soon as I finish.
> 
> TW-Mentions of sex/blow jobs happening in another room, but nothing explicit. Also hints of past pedophilia.

Sans hadn't felt happy in three years. He'd almost completely given up hope that he ever would before he was given to Vega. But somehow, starting from when she released his magic and leading up to when she had held him during his panic attack, Sans had begun to feel hope again. 

There was no way she could have felt it, not being a mage, but while she was holding him her soul had sent out constant waves of SAFE|PROTECTED|HAPPY. His magic gave him a clearer picture of souls than most but even the most soul blind monster would have been placated by her. As it was she was able to calm him down in record time and even made him feel safe enough to sleep. He knew that he would come to no harm as long as he was with her, and fell asleep bathed in her green glow.

It was hard to connect the girl who literally poured out her soul to make him feel better with the girl who told stories about being horribly injured as if they were commonplace. The girl who had no hesitation when it came to violence, who would do anything it took to do her job, with the girl who drew flowers on his skull with markers when he fell asleep at the table. Sans had never seen her kill anyone, but thanks to his Judgement was able to tell when her EXP went up, and still she would bake him cookies and try to make his life easier. 

And now, as stood outside the office where barely concealed grunts and moans were coming from, beside the brother he thought he'd lost, Sans felt himself on the verge of tears. For many reasons.

The guards who had been waiting took the skeletons appearance as a chance to go on break, trusting in the power of the collar to protect their master, and the brothers were alone. Neither spoke, both of them knew cameras were watching their every move. Sans took the chance to send waves of LOVE|HAPPY|SAFE to his brother, knowing that even if the collar was on full suppression it would still be felt. Papyrus rocked in spot, blinking tears from his eyes as his eye lights became hearts, trying his best to reciprocate.

What seemed like an eternity later they were called back into the office. Sans entered first, anxious to get back to Vega. She was staring at him with dead looking eyes, her previously perfect makeup smudged around her lips and her hair had more tugged out sections than before. He couldn't see any signs of physical harm, but her soul was covered with a dark grey cloud and pulsed mutely in pain.

While Sans was taking stock of his human the man who was supposed to be her family rounded his desk, shirt untucked and pants button still undone. Only decades, or maybe centuries, of keeping his poker face stopped Sans from summoning a blaster and wiping this stain from existence. A quick burst of magic called up his Judgement, cursing himself for being distracted by Papyrus and not doing it sooner. 

Sergio Digiorno  
LV 26  
HP 1200/1200  
ATK 300 (300)  
DF 350 (50)

She's not the youngest he's hurt.

 

Sans gave an inaudible growl at the information, ramping it up to a barely there rumble when Sergio went towards his brother. He caught Vega giving him a harsh glare but didn't bother stopping. Vega going forwards, claiming his brother after the ownership ritual and finally giving the tall skeleton his name back was the only thing that calmed him. There was hope and confusion in Paps eyes, but mostly hidden joy. 

“Thank you for the birthday present uncle. I love it.” Vega cooed, hopping from the desk. Both skeletons followed Vega to the door without command, eager to be out of there.

“Not a problem tesora, I'm more than happy to make you happy.” Sergio had a voice that even pacifistic Sans wanted to punch. Hell, Sans would put money on Frisk kicking the man in his glory bits if given the chance.

“Keep our little, ah, discussion between us hmm? No need to bother your father with such.” Which pretty much meant ‘don't tell your dad or he might kill me.’ Vega didn't bother replying to that, giving her uncle a wink before leading them out. 

Papyrus must have had experience with being a bodyguard, something Sans did not want to think about, or he was following his brothers lead as he silently followed his new master through the even more packed club and out the main doors. When they got to the car Sans didn't go in the front seat like normal, instead crawling into the back with his brother.

He waited until Vega had pulled the car out of the parking lot before throwing himself on his younger brother, finally letting his tears out. Papyrus didn't hesitate in pulling Sans into the hug, bright orange tears streaming down his skull. Both babbled happy nonsense, gripping each other hard enough their bones creaked. 

Neither brother noticed when Vega pulled onto her property, only snapping out of their hug fest by her door shutting. Not letting go of his brothers hand Sans climbed out as well. He was gripped by a sudden fear that this was all just a dream, that he was still in the market and having a very vivid hallucination, but the happy giggle Papyrus gave as he was towed into his new home made it worth it.

“Sans show him around, help him pick a room. Order something for supper if you want.” Vegas voice was dead, no sense of emotion. For the first time since he'd has his magic released Sans tried to take a peek at her soul, but the grey cloud completely blocked his view.

“vega…” Stars, Sans had no clue what to say in this situation. Should he thank her, apologize? Vega saved him from choosing by tossing a micro USB at him. Which he only caught thanks to some judicious magic use.

“Plug that into his collar, it will change the settings to match yours. Tomorrow we will unlock his magic.” And then she turned away, going upstairs and leaving the brothers.

“SANS!” Papyrus found his voice and lifted said skeleton up into a hug. Sans decided he would worry about Vega later and instead did his best koala impression on his brother.

“it's okay bro, you're safe now. vega is a good human. we won't be separated again, i promise.” His freshly stopped tears started up again, but neither one minded, forming a cuddle puddle on the foyer floor. 

It was over an hour later that they felt up to separating, just enough for Sans to plug the USB in. The collar beeped twice before offering a ‘settings updated v.1, merci’ before going silent. 

“c’mon bro, i’ll give you a tour of the place and then we can go to bed.” Sans was reluctant to stand up, but the emotions of the day were getting to him and he could really use a nap. Papyrus solved his problem by putting Sans on his shoulders for the tour and going where he pointed. The kitchen was the favorite stop for the young skeleton, who gave out an excited squeal when told he was allowed to use it. 

When offered the options of choosing a bedroom Papyrus hesitated outside of the peach toned one before heading into the one Sans had claimed. It wasn't nearly as messy as the one he'd had Underground, thanks in part to Vega doing all the laundry, and the bed was more than large enough for the two of them. Sans had no arguments for this, and as he fell asleep in his brothers arms he was finally happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope having a bunch of rapidly posted chapters makes up for the prolonged absence. 
> 
> I also noticed that Pap only had one word this chapter, but I promise the next one will be dialog heavy. Probably too much lol.
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcomed and loved. Every time I get the comment email it makes me want to drop everything and write.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> So I've had this sitting I'm my docs since I posted the last chapter, thinking I had already posted it. Nope. Sorry!

It wasn't the first time you'd woken up in at the bottom of your shower, but it was the first you'd managed to fall asleep while the water was still running. What was once boiling was now freezing as it poured onto your prone body, prompting you to get up and out of there quite quickly. Your skin was a bit raw, both from the overzealous loofah scrubbing and the icy waters, so you took extra care when patting yourself dry. It took you a minute to throw your hair up into a messy bun and then another few to get dressed in some space themed yoga pants and a black silk blouse. Comfort clothes.

The clock told you it was just after 11, meaning you'd slept in quite a bit more than normal, but you doubted Sans would be awake to notice. Routine still called you, so you made your way downstairs to the kitchen. After 11, so that's almost 12, which is lunch time. Spaghetti is appropriate lunch food. With your mind made up you pulled out the flour and other ingredients. There were boxes of store bought noodles in the cupboards but you really wanted to impress your new house guest. If there was one thing Italians were good at it was pasta. And wine. Speaking of, you quickly jogged off to grab a couple bottles from the cellar, pouring yourself a glass to drink while you cooked.

A muffled shout from upstairs startled you from your veggie chopping, making you work faster as to be done before they came down. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but apparently Papyrus was as loud as Sans was laid back. Good to know. Part of you was anxious to meet him, thanks to your less than stellar first impression last night, but you figured it couldn't be any worse from how you met Sans. You had won the small skeleton over, you could win the big one too. With spaghetti as a bribe.

The two skeletons bounced into the kitchen just as you set the last place setting on the table. Well, one skeleton bounced. The other was being carried like a koala, so Sans just kind of hung from his brothers shoulders. He had the softest smile you had ever seen on him, with his eyes half closed and a happy blush on his cheeks. Bones. Cheekbones. How someone made completely of bone could blush was something you had given up on finding out, throwing it in the ‘magic bullshit’ folder.

"GOOD MORNING HUMAN!" Yep, Papyrus was just as loud as you figured. He also seemed to be a bit nervous, afraid of your reaction but covering it up with his enthusiasm. It made you hate humans even more to know that one of them had put fear in the eyes of this puppy.

"Good morning Papyrus. Sans" You kept your voice gentle but happy, meeting both sets of eye lights. Sans just winked at you as he was put into a chair, but the tentative smile Papyrus wore grew into a full blown grin. Free of his brotherly burden he bounded up to you and wrapped you into a hug. There was a surprising amount of strength in his arms, crushing the air from your lungs as he lifted you from the ground. Instinct had you stiffening and preparing to throw him, break him, kill him, free yourself, and it took a lot of willpower not to do so. Both skeletons noticed your distress, though Sans was probably the only one who knew why, and Papyrus dropped you to the ground gently before skittering away a few steps.

"I'm sorry human." The quiet voice did not sound right coming from the large skeleton wringing his hands and staring at the ground. Sans looked torn, like he wanted to console his brother and yell at you for hurting him while also having a bit of concern for you.

"It's okay Papyrus, not your fault. I'm just not very good at hugs, that's all." You grabbed his hands, loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted but tight enough to show you meant it. Which you did. The only person you had ever hugged before was your father, and that was maybe three or four times a year. There was the occasional hug you gave when you wanted to get your way, but much like other forms of affection those made you feel worse instead of better.

"I CAN HELP WITH THAT! WITH MORE HUGS!" Placated by your honestly the skeleton pulled you into another hug, softer and not as constricting as before. Your feet didn't leave the ground this time. It still made you a bit anxious, not used to non-violent contact, but you let it happen.

"Sounds like a good idea to me. Just respect when I say no and let go when I ask you to, okay?" Actually, you had no clue what to do in a hug. Papyrus solved that issue by breaking the hug again, this time much more naturally.

"OF COURSE HUMAN!" He looked around the kitchen, smile still in place as he sat down at the table. "I SEE YOU HAVE ALREADY MADE LUNCH. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD HAVE MADE YOU BREAKFAST BUT I WAS TRAPPED IN THAT COMFORTABLE BED." The stories you had heard about his cooking didn't fill you with that much trust in him, but you did trust the kitchens fire suppression system. 

"How about you make supper then? If you want to." Fun skeleton monster fact you just learned, say the right thing and their eye lights can turn to stars. Unexpected but very adorable. It occurred to you that you hadn't seen Sans do that yet, and now you had a new side quest.

"heh, sound soup-er." Sans, who had been quietly observing the interaction between you and Papyrus finally spoke up. With a pun. That was probably a new record for how long it took him to inject one into a conversation. The glare that Papyrus gave him reminded you of an angry kitten.

"Yeah, just think of all the pasta-bilities." You were a sucker for a challenge, so you loosed your own pun as you placed the bowl of noodles onto the table, right in front of the monster chef.

"SPAGHETTI!" He blinked quickly, looking at the food in front of him with awe and bright orange tears in his eyes. Which was concerning and adorable. Judging by the way Sans smile grew you decided to just focus on the adorable.

"SINCE YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY A GOURMET EATER I WILL FORGIVE YOU FOR THE PUNS. BUT YOU MUST NOT LET SANS DRAG YOU DOWN THE PATH OF BAD HUMOUR AND LAZINESS." He didn't touch the food, though his hands twitched on the table beside him before he brought them to his lap. Sans caught on before you did, scooping up a large portion onto his brothers plate before scooping some for himself as well. You grabbed the bowl when he passed it to you, watching Papyrus focus on you from the corner of your eye as you served yourself. 

"Well?" You mumbled around a mouthful of noodles and marinara sauce. "Are you going to eat or just stare at the wonder that is me?" Years of conditioning would be hard to break but this was the first step. You were rewarded for your sass with another blinding grin before he too started eating. As always you didn't see Sans bring any food to his mouth but it still disappeared off his plate.

Lunch was a happy affair, Papyrus finishing off his portion and taking seconds without asking, though he did send a glance your way. You ignored that and pretended to eat, not really feeling hungry after the first couple bites. You also ignored the worried looks Sans sent your way, instead focusing on Papyrus as he told you about the wonders of spaghetti while you steadily polished off the bottle of wine. Papyrus cleared the table once you were all done, insisting that he do the dishes since you cooked. You hated washing dishes and knew Sans wouldn't do them so you didn't argue. 

"So I was thinking today we can unlock your magic and then I can answer any questions you might have. We also have to go over the house rules. Sound good?" You had learned a lot about monsters since Sans was given to you so you knew how important their magic was. 

“THAT SOUNDS LIKE A WONDERFUL IDEA HUMAN! THERE ARE MANY THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW.” Papyrus had just finished the last dish when you spoke and so looked at you with barely hidden excitement. With a nod you lead the way to the back yard, grabbing the second wine bottle on the way. Sans gave you a funny look as you put the bottle on the patio table, but he sat down without comment. Something you were grateful for.

“So when we unlocked Sans magic there was a bit of a fall out. Which reminds me that I've still got to get that car fixed.” You heard Sans give a sheepish chuckle at that, obviously still a little guilty. Waving that away you continued.

“We took off the whole suppression in one go, which is probably why he couldn't control it. I'd really rather not get thrown across the room again, so we are going to gradually open yours up. 2 levels at a time. That alright with you?” As you spoke you lead Papyrus further from the house, and more specifically the glass patio furniture. 

“THAT IS A WELL THOUGHT OUT PLAN. OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS EXCELLENT CONTROL OVER HIS MAGIC BUT IT NEVER HURTS TO BE CAREFUL.” Said skeleton nodded as he spoke, posing heroically. You had the sudden thought of him wearing a cape but brushed that aside. Focus.

The procedure was the same as it had been for Sans, you pricking your finger and then following the French commands. There was no warning message this time but the effects were still obvious. Both of the monsters eye sockets lit up with a bright orange flame. A wind that wasn't there before picked up, blowing around him in a small cyclone with orange lightning flickering through.

You noticed all of this in a split second before self preservation kicked in. Warning bells went off in you, telling you to get away as quickly as possible. Instinct had you leaping backwards, doing a couple back flips to put some distance between you before dropping into a fighter crouch, one hand going to where your gun would have been, had you actually been packing. For some reason you also placed yourself between the brothers, as if to protect the elder brother from his sibling. 

Papyrus seemed to be having no issues with his magic though his smile faded as he saw your reaction. It was almost enough to make you feel bad. Perhaps being so close to him while you did this wasn't the best idea.

“How are you feeling Papyrus?” You called out, keeping your distance but standing up straight again.

“WONDERFUL!” His beam came back, easing your guilt. After a minute or so the wind and eye flame died down. 

“Okay, let's keep going then. I'm going to stay back here as I do it.” Without giving him a chance to reply you called out the next set of orders. Since nothing had interrupted the setting program of the collar, unlike last time when the punishment had started, the collar was still waiting for your commands and you didn't have to go through the whole settings again.

It took a while for you to get through the magic suppression like this, giving Papyrus a break between each stage to take control again, but it was worth it. When you had finally gotten it down to zero the monster started to show off, forming bones and flying them around. He even managed to make a ‘THANK YOU!!!’ completely out of bones, which was cool and mildly creepy. While you were tired from the whole thing, the stress of being constantly on guard wearing you down, Papyrus seemed to have more energy than ever.

He gave a loud ‘NYEH HEH HEH HEH!’ and then took off running, constructing hurdles for himself to jump over while he did laps around the yard. You were almost tempted to join him, but that bottle of wine was calling your name so you instead trudged to the table and took a seat beside Sans. The smaller monster seemed to be asleep so you didn't bother talking, opening the wine and drinking straight from the bottle while you watched Papyrus run.

“wow, that must be a grape drink.” Sans broke the silence, causing you to snort and nearly spit out the mouthful you had just taken. 

“Yeah, it's a real wine-er. Want some?” Not your best joke, but you were still rewarded with a soft chuckle. 

“nah, i’m good. thanks though.” There was a tense silence, one that had your hackles rising, before he spoke again.

“and thanks. for what you did for papyrus. finding him and”

“Don't mention it.” You cut him off, probably ruder than necessary. There was a cold chill in your chest and you really wanted to go take a shower.

“is there … can i” 

“No. Leave it alone Sans, it's fine. I'm fine. So drop it.” A couple months ago you would have felt bad being this harsh but right now you really didn't care. You didn't wait for him to speak again, taking another chug before calling out to Papyrus. The tall monster saved you from further conversation by skidding to a stop and jogging over to you.

“THANK YOU HUMAN. IT FEELS SO GOOD TO HAVE MY MAGIC AGAIN.” His smile was so pure and genuine you were responding in kind without even noticing. 

“I'm glad to hear that. Let's go over the household rules. Sans gave you a tour of the place, right?” Both skeletons nodded, though Papyrus was more enthusiastic.

“Cool. Did you pick out a bedroom?” At this both skeletons shook their heads.

“NO. I SLEPT WITH SANS.” Papyrus seemed almost shy about this, like he thought you would make fun of him for wanting to be with his brother.

“That's fine. Just know if you ever want a room for yourself you can pick any of the open ones. Bedrooms are private and people are only allowed in if you give permission. Sans lets me into his room to drop off breakfast and put away his laundry, but if you don't want me to go in there anymore that's fine.

My room is out of bounds if I'm not in it, and if I am knock first. Same for my bathroom and office. The basement is completely off limits, unless you ask me first. And even then probably not. It's not that I want to limit your freedom, it's just to keep you safe. Everywhere else in the house is fair game, just keep it clean. The property is also safe, 50 acres of land that's completely fenced in. I own the surrounding land too, for privacy reasons, but it isn't secure. Any questions?”

Wow, you almost felt like a tour guide with that whole spiel. It was more than you'd given Sans and you saw him absorbing this new knowledge as well. Since monsters were seen as property to society they wouldn't be allowed off your land without you, but having such an open place to play in hopefully made up for it. The land was mostly flat and open near the house, but the farther out you went the hillier it got, with a dense forest. There was a spring that ran through part of it and a couple small ponds hidden. You had spent many days exploring when you first bought the land, learning the secrets and drawing your own maps of the place.

“I DO HAVE ONE QUESTION HUMAN.” Papyrus broke you from your musing, so you gave him your full attention.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US?” His tone was darker than you'd thought possible, menacing. You saw through that, saw the fear that fought with his hope. 

“Nothing.” Your answer didn't placate him, so you elaborated. “I didn't want Sans, had no intentions of involving myself with monsters. Too much stuff on my plate already. 

 

But instead of a puppy I got a skeleton, and I learned that monsters aren't the mindless creatures they're portrayed as. That you're people, with feeling and dreams and souls. 

Humans have done some terrible shit, I've done some terrible shit, but slavery is something I don't agree with. I don't have the time or energy to save every monster, if that's even possible, but since Sans is mine I'll do my best to save him. And rest means saving you.

Sans is my bodyguard, but that was his choice. He's told me you like cooking, so I wouldn't mind sharing chef duty with you, but I'm not going to force anything from you. If you want to ignore me completely and live out in the woods, that's fine. You'll still have to hear my voice once a week, but that can be the extent of our contact.

Or we could be friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you are not okay right now. And you also aren't dealing with it in a very healthy manner. Hurray!
> 
> There is a lot of healing that needs to happen here, from all parties. 
> 
> I've noticed that I tend to write the as 'tge' on my phone, which is then corrected to ghetto. So if someone is ever looking up at ghetto ceiling, that's why.
> 
> As always, comments give me the will to write, so tell at me down below!


End file.
